Danger is Safe
by iron-holmes
Summary: Rachel Levine had moved on with her life after her fiance's death. By moving into 221B Baker Street, Rachel got herself a new friend, a boyfriend and a chaotic life! Read about her adventures with the Consulting Detective and how the Consulting Criminal tries to destroy her life. Sherlock/OC
1. Chapter 1

**This is my first story and I really hope you all enjoy it! :D**

I've been walking around London all day, looking for a decent flat. Either the price was too high or the standards too low. Looking for a flat in London is rare _and_ exhausting. I walked into my tiny flat and dropped my bag in the floor near the door. There wasn't much in the flat. It was a two piece apartment with a kitchen, a bed and a bathroom. I quickly changed into my pajamas and flopped down on my bed. I immediately fell asleep.

The next morning I was sitting on my bed, since I don't have room for a sofa, reading the newspaper when I saw an advertisement for a rent. It seemed like a good place because there was a tube station just around the corner from the address. I quickly slipped into some skinny jeans, Converse high tops and a shirt. I slipped into my jacket and put my blond curls in a high ponytail and slung my bag over my shoulder. I took the newspaper and flattened it out on the page with the address. I slipped out of my little flat and tip toed in front of my landlord's door-

"LEVINE! HAVE YOU GOT MY DAMN RENT YET!?" Mr. Edgar yelled as he opened the door. I winced at the volume of his voice.

"No I haven't got it yet" I replied quietly, avoiding eye contact with the little Asian man.

"You better have it by tonight, or I'm putting your flat on sale!" He yelled before slamming his door in my face. I groaned with frustration as I headed out of the ugly building I lived in. This new place better be nice.

#####

I knocked on the black door of 221 Baker Street. I waited patiently until the door flew open and kind looking old woman opened the door. She was wearing a purple dress and a lot of makeup. Her grey/blond hair sat just above her neck in a nice way.

"Oh hello! You must be here for the rent! Well come in, its bloody cold outside" she said with a warm smile. I thanked her and moved across the threshold. I entered a hallway that had Victorian looking wallpaper. There was a staircase leading upstairs and at the end of the hallway a door which read 221C.

"I'm Martha Hudson" the lady said, holding out her hand as she closed the door.

"Rachel Levine" I replied shaking her hand. She gestured towards the door with the 221C on it and I approached it. I turned the knob and pulled open the door. My mouth hung open at the amazing space I was seeing. It was already furnished, with empty book shelves, a little kitchen, a door leading to a bed room and a couch facing a TV. This flat was definitely better than my current one. And cheaper.

"As you see, it comes fully furnished with no extra charge" Mrs. Hudson explained.

"Are you serious?" I asked, almost not believing her kindness.

"Yes of course! I've been trying to get someone in here for years but no takers. And now here you are so no charge for the furniture!" She explained.

"Well this place is amazing" I exclaimed.

I was signing the documents to move in tomorrow when a thought occurred.

"What about the neighbors?" I asked, looking up from the document.

"Oh of course. Well two men, probably about your age live up there" Mrs. Hudson said as she pointed to the next floor.

"It's quite hard to miss them if you walk by them on the street" Mrs. Hudson continued. I wondered mentally what made them stand out. I quickly finished signing all the needed documents and handed them over to the landlady.

"I'll see you tomorrow dear!" Mrs. Hudson exclaimed as she closed the door behind me. I sighed happily as I made my way back to my ugly apartment building.

#####

Once I got back to my tiny flat, I quickly put the few possessions I owned into boxes. Once that was ready, I made myself a quick dinner. As I was eating someone burst through the door, and they were most definitely _not_ welcome in my flat.

"Levine. Have you got my rent!?" Mr. Edgar asked walking over the threshold.

"Nope" I relied, popping the 'p'. I watched with amusement as his face reddened with rage.

"We'll do you want to be kicked out?!" He asked, his voice rising with each word.

"I'm moving tomorrow anyways, so I don't mind. I'm all packed" I said with a dazzling smile. He looked around bewildered.

"YOU BETTER BE OUT OF THIS FUCKING FLAT BY TOMORROW OR I KICK YOU OUT ONTO THE STREETS!" He bellowed and slammed the door closed. I chuckled lightly as I heard him shouting more curses at me.

"Good thing I'm moving 'out of this fucking flat'" I said, mimicking Mr. Edgar. I quickly finished my dinner and changed into my pajamas. I picked an outfit for tomorrow so everything would be ready in the morning. I lay down on my bed and closed my eyes, awaiting my moving day which was to be tomorrow.

**I considered my first chapter a bit short, but not to worry because the others will be much longer! Review my story! Share your opinions if you want something included in the plot! Do excuse the inappropriate language used at the end, just tried to make it a bit witty.**


	2. Chapter 2

**So now I'm starting to dive into a Study in Pink! I did change some things in the plot, but that will come in following chapters. Enjoy! :D**

I had already moved my few possessions into my new flat at 221 Baker Street. I was unpacking when my new landlady, Mrs. Hudson knocked on the open door.

"Hello dear. The boys upstairs are home if you would like to meet them" she explained.

"I'd love to go and get to know my new neighbors!" I exclaimed as I followed her to the flat numbered 221B. Mrs. Hudson knocked on the door. A short man with blond, military cropped hair opened it.

"Oh hello Mrs. Hudson. I didn't know you had company" the man said.

"Oh no, this is Rachel Levine. She rented the flat downstairs" Mrs. Hudson explained. The man nodded.

"Dr. John Watson" he said holding out his hand. I shook it politely. He had a strong grip which confirmed the military cropped hair.

"Rachel Levine. Nice to meet you " I said.

"Please call me John" he smiled as he gestured for us to come in.

The flat was a bit messy but it looked quite cozy. There was a desk with a laptop, piled with books and papers and files. A giant bookshelf sat at the other end of the room. I noticed a man sitting on the sofa with his eyes closed. He couldn't have been sleeping because he was sitting upright. His, almost black, curly hair brushed against his eyes, which were still closed. He had a pale complexion and a handsome face composed of very sharp and visible cheekbones.

"Sherlock, meet our new neighbor" John said impatiently, nudging the curly haired man in the ribs. The man flinched at the contact of John's elbow and his ribs and his eyes flew open. I tried not to stare but I couldn't figure out exactly what color they were. At first I thought they were blue but the more I looked into his eyes the more they seemed a mix of blue, light green and grey. He had truly beautiful eyes.

"I'm Rachel" I finally said extending my arm. The curly haired man sat still, almost staring at me. John sighed.

"This is Sherlock Holmes" John explained.

"Don't bother with him being quiet and when he does open his mouth, don't listen to him please. He's an idiot" John said as the man named Sherlock rolled his eyes. I wondered what John meant about not listening to anything Sherlock says. The curly haired man fixed his gazes upon me and cocked his head. He opened his mouth to speak but John cut him off.

"Sherlock, be-have" John said, emphasizing the last word.

"It's nice to meet you" Sherlock said extending his hand as I shook it. He had a deep voice that sounded somehow charming.

"How was your holiday?" Sherlock asked suddenly. John sighed and rubbed his temples.

"Sorry?" I asked. Maybe I've misunderstood him. How could he have possibly known about that?

"You've recently been on holiday; the tan lines on your hands haven't gone away yet. Maybe you went away for a while to get away from your life because something bad has happened. Most likely because of a broken engagement. The ring is gone but the lighter skin shows you have been abroad for some time since he left you and you took the off the ring, hence breaking the engagement. Now you've come to London to start a new life believing you have left everything in the past. Am I wrong?" Sherlock said extremely quickly. John sighed as if Sherlock had done exactly what John had told him _not_ to do. I stared at Sherlock with wide green eyes as I rubbed the finger where the engagement ring used to be. I got a bit misty eyed.

"No. Right on all accounts Mr. Holmes" I replied, anger spreading in my voice as Sherlock smirked.

"Except one" I added as he turned to face me wide eyed.

"He didn't leave me. He died" I finished flatly.

"Excuse me" I said as I nodded to John and Mrs. Hudson, wiping a stray tear that trickled down my cheek. I bolted out the door I heard John yelling at Sherlock.

"Good job Sherlock" John said. I didn't hear anymore as my face hit the summer air. London was strangely warm and I looked around and noticed a little café right next to the house.

**Sherlock's POV****:**

I don't understand that guilty sensation I felt when Rachel ran from the flat in tears. Most of the times, I don't care about people's feelings, unless it was John, Lestrade or even Mrs. Hudson. But it was different with this girl. For some reason I felt guilty about my sudden outburst. There was something special about this girl, living right next door to me, with curly blond hair and green eyes. I noticed she was tall. Taller than John, that is.

"Good job Sherlock. Just great. Someone finally moves in downstairs and it's a nice, young woman and she just runs out in tears, because of you!" John said pointing at me. I rolled my eyes.

"Go apologize" John ordered. My eyes widened as I turned to face him.

"What?" I asked. Even if I hated when people ask stupid question out of astonishment, it seemed like a human impulse.

"You heard me! Go find Rachel and apologize! If she's going to be living downstairs at least make amends with her!" John explained with an annoyed sigh.

"Fine" I replied flatly, slipping into my coat and twisting my scarf around my neck. I sighed as I bolted out the door and looked around; noticing familiar blond curls duck inside the café near 221B.

**Rachel's POV:**

I sat by a table near the window, sipping my tea. The tears had dried and left my eyes a bit red. I was staring absentmindedly out the window until I heard someone pull back the chair and sit down across me. I turned to face a curly haired man with piercing blue eyes and a pale complexion.

"May I help you Mr. Holmes?" I asked as politely as I could.

"I... Um... Came to.. Er... Say... Um... To... Apologize.." He stuttered. I noticed that saying sorry was not in his domain.

"You came to.. Say sorry?" I repeated. He rolled his eyes.

"Yes" he replied quietly.

"Well alright. You're forgiven. You couldn't possibly have known that my fiancé had cancer and died" I replied awkwardly. He understood that I had forgiven him and relief washed over his face for a moment. At that same moment his phone buzzed and he slipped it out of his pocket.

"Have you gotten a job yet?" He asked.

"Something tells me you know the answer" I replied.

"We'll I think I've just gotten a job for you" he said smirking.

"How would you like to be a journalist for Scotland Yard?" he asked.

"I took noticed of the pen and pad of paper you had in your coat pocket. I knew you must be a sort of writer. But what writer carried a pen and paper with them at all times? A journalist! To take note of everything!" Sherlock said as he stood up and walked out the door. I immediately followed him. He walked back into his flat and he opened the door for me. I smiled as I entered the flat where John was sitting in an arm chair with a hand over his head.

"Rachel! Did he apologize?" John asked pointing at Sherlock who had raised his hands defensively.

"Yes he did" I replied looking over at Sherlock.

"Good" John said. Suddenly a man with greying hair burst through the door.

"There's been another one hasn't there?" Sherlock asked the newcomer. I looked at John for an explanation.

"Yes. Will you come?" He asked in a cockney accent.

"Where?" Sherlock asked as he glanced out the window.

"Brixton, Lauriston Gardens" the man replied.

"What's new about this one? You wouldn't have come to get me if there wasn't something different" Sherlock pointed out.

"You know how they never leave notes? This one did" the man explained. Sherlock nodded apprehensively.

"Who's on forensics?" He asked suddenly.

"Anderson" the man replied. I glanced at John once more, a thousand questions written all over my face, waiting for him to answer. He just shrugged. Great.

"Anderson won't work with me" Sherlock said with an exasperated sigh. The man scratched his greying hair.

"Will you come?" He asked again.

"Not in a police car" Sherlock said, looking down at the carpeted floor. Why didn't he want to tag along in a police car?

"We'll be right behind" John added, covering Sherlock's statement about the police car.

"Thank you" the man called before turning on his heel.

"Wait" he said before leaving. He turned around and faced me.

"Who is she?" The man asked, turning away from me to Sherlock.

"Rachel Levine" Sherlock replied absentmindedly.

"You're the new investigative journalist?" The man asked me.

"Yes" I replied as I remembered Sherlock had proposed to work for Scotland Yard a few minutes before.

"I'm Detective Inspector Lestrade" the man informed me as he stretched his hand out. I smiled and shook his hand.

"Alright I'm waiting for you two" Lestrade called before running downstairs. I heard the door shut and turned to Sherlock with a million questions. Said man, leaped into the air with fists clenched in triumph. I hid my smile behind my hand at how childish he was behaving. He twirled around the room happily.

"Brilliant! Yes! Ah, four serial suicides, and now a note! Oh, it's Christmas!" Picking up his scarf, he slipped his coat on and walked towards the kitchen, where Mrs. Hudson was cleaning up what looking like science equipment.

"Mrs Hudson, we'll be late. Might need some food" Sherlock pointed out.

"I'm your landlady, dear, not your housekeeper" Mrs. Hudson reminded him.

"John we've got to go" Sherlock called as he wrapped his scarf around his neck.

"Rachel would you like to come?" Sherlock asked looking over at me. I stared at him with astonishment. Just 5 minutes ago, the man before me was cruel and arrogant and now he's more... Human?

"Sure why not" I replied finally. John sighed heavily as Sherlock bolted out the door. John and I followed him as he hailed cab.

"New Scotland Yard please" John told the cabbie.

**So you've met Mrs. Hudson, John, Sherlock and now Lestrade! Next chapter I'll introduce the other characters as well as the plot of the story! Review :)**


	3. Chapter 3

**I decided I'll be updating as much as I can in one week so you guys have plenty to read! Enjoy :)**

We sat in the cab in silence, sight me in between the two men. Both were staring out the windows.

"So what is it you do exactly?" I asked turning to Sherlock. John chuckled lightly.

"Think" Sherlock replied staring back out the window.

"I'm guessing a private detective" I assumed.

"But the police don't go to amateurs" I quickly added.

"I knew you had been engaged when I hadn't even met you. I knew you were a journalist because of the notepad in your jacket" Sherlock explained.

"Should I go on?" He said.

"No" I replied quickly.

"So what do you do then?" I asked.

"I'm a consulting detective. The only one in the world. I invented the job" he said proudly. I stared at him blankly.

"When the police are out of their dept, which they always are, they consult me" he explained.

"Right" I said, catching on.

"And I'm an army doctor" John chided in. I smiled at the odd pair. A consulting detective and an army doctor. Does it get anymore bizarre then that? I thought over how Lestrade had come into Sherlock and John's flat. I focused on why Sherlock hadn't wanted to ride in the police car. Has he gone through a bad experience with the police? Maybe with Lestrade, since he seemed to know what's wrong. Ill make sure to ask John later.

I didn't expect to find much at the house where the last victims had commit suicide but of course, Sherlock did. He found out everything he needed to know and left John and I standing there looking like idiots. John had sighed and ushered me out the door.

"So where is he?" I asked once outside.

"No idea. I'm guessing we've got to go home by ourselves now. Come on" John said smiling. He started walking towards a busy street to get a cab and I followed him.

Once in the cab I turned to John.

"Is this what you two call a normal night?" I asked. John chuckled lightly.

"We'll when there's a case, Sherlock goes through all sorts of things to get it done. When there's no case, the wall gets shot" John explained. Wait, _the wall gets shot_!? Why do they have a gun in their possession?

"So your a journalist?" John asked.

"Yes. I've started my career by writing but that didn't work out well. I like criminology more then science fiction" I replied.

"Hold on, this isn't the way to Baker Street" John said as he looked out the window.

"Oh god. Ok don't worry nothing's wrong it's just Mycroft" John explained. I was about to ask who's Mycroft before the cab pulled to a stop in front of what looking like an abandoned warehouse. John opened the door of the cab and walked out. I quickly followed him. I noticed a tall man in an expensive suit holding an umbrella standing in the middle of the massive room.

"Good evening John" the man said. His accent was very posh, so well raised.

"And miss Levine" he added as he gave me a sly smile.

"Why did you bring us here?" John asked, clearly annoyed.

"Just concerned for my dear baby brother" the man who I presumed to be Mycroft replied.

"Wait, your Sherlock's brother?" I asked.

"Mentioned me, has he?" The man asked after nodding.

"No, he didn't mention you at all" I replied, giving him a smile to which he scowled upon. Next to me, John snickered.

"Alright Mycroft, if all you wanted was to meet Rachel, we'll be on our way. Unless you wanted to ask Rachel something..." John said, wiggling his eyebrows at Mycroft, who's cheeks at turned rosy.

"Let's go John" I said as I half dragged a laughing John back to the cab.

Once we arrived back at Baker Street, I followed John up to their flat to see if Sherlock was there.

"You've met my brother" said a baritone voice from the kitchen. John sighed and sat down in his armchair in the living room.

"Yes I have" I replied as I turned and faced Sherlock. He was sitting at the table, gazing into a microscope.

"Did he offer you money to spy on me?" Sherlock asked.

"No" I replied firmly. Suddenly, in a flurry of curls, Sherlock stood up and looked into my eyes. His brow was furrowed and his face was inches away from mine. I could see the gears working in his head as he thought. His stare was about to burn a hole in my head until he sat back down, his eyes still locked with mine.

"Why would be do that? He offered John money to spy on me" Sherlock said, half to himself.

"What's changed?" He muttered to himself.

"Are you hungry?" Sherlock suddenly asked standing up from his chair and walking to the living room.

"Um yes. ?" John asked.

"Let's go get dinner then shall we?" Sherlock replied nodding to me.

"Do you want to come along?" John asked as Sherlock walked out the door.

"Sure" I replied. I didn't have any food in my flat since I just moved in that morning and I had nothing better to do but get to know my interesting neighbors.

**This chapter was a bit short but I promise the next chapter's won't be as short! I want to know your opinions and if you want me to write about something specific so review!**


	4. Chapter 4

**Here's another chapter for today! I'll post more tomorrow! Enjoy :D**

We arrived shortly at an Italian restaurant. Sherlock took a seat near the window and immediately started staring out of it. John and I took our seats as well.

"Your not going to eat?" I asked.

"No I don't eat while I work. Digestion slows me down" Sherlock explained, never taking his eyes off the street.

"Um alright" I replied as the waiter placed a plate with steaming food in front of John and I. We ate in silence.

"John. I've got it. Who passes by in society without being noticed or getting to much attention everyday?" Sherlock asked as if talking to a little child.

"Um I don't know" John replied.

"They pass by everyday, like ghosts. They pick up strangers everyday" Sherlock began.

"Who are we talking about exactly?" John asked as Sherlock slipped into his coat and walked out the door. John sighed and gestured for me to follow him.

"Sherlock wait!" John called from across the street before we caught up with Sherlock. His hands flew to his head as he started mumbling to himself

"Rachel stay here" Sherlock finally said.

"John. Run. Now" He added quickly before bolting off after a cab. John looked over at me with a confused face and started running after Sherlock. I stared after them as their forms disappeared in the night. I sighed and approached a cab. I might as well go home instead of standing in a dark street all night. I walked over to a cab with the light on.

"221 Baker Street" I said.

"Sorry miss. I'm not on duty" the old man behind the wheel replied.

"But your light is on!" I whined.

"Sorry" the old man said.

"Come on! Please?" I begged. The old man sighed. I turned away and looked down the street.

"Mrs. Levine. Do you do drugs?" The man asked. I wondered over how he knew my name.

"No" I replied shakily.

"We'll most people would have passed out by now" he said with a smile. I traced his line of vision. Sticking out of my elbow was some sort of needle. I felt my vision start to blur and before I knew it, I blacked out.

I woke up to the sound of a crackling fire. I was laying on something hard and I couldn't feel most of my muscles. I tried to speak but all that escaped my lips was some groans.

"The side affects wear off in an hour, so I wouldn't tire myself out if I were you" said a familiar voice. I turned my head and saw the same old man who had drugged me.

"Am I in my flat?" I asked looking around at my furniture.

"Yes. I found the keys in your jacket pocket. Most people like to die at home so I thought, why not?" He replied shaking my keys in front of my face. I blinked in confusion. Did he say I was going to die here?

"What do you want?" I asked holding on to the mantel piece of the fire place to steady myself. I noticed a table has been brought to the middle of the room and two chairs placed around it.

"Oh just a little game. Have a seat" the man said, sitting down in one of the chairs, gesturing for me to sit in the other one. I stumbled over to the chair and sank into it. I watched as the man pulled out two identical bottles with two identical pills inside each one. He placed the bottle son the table. I watched as he unscrewed them and took out the pills.

"There's two pills. A good one and a bad one" he explained, noticing my confusion.

"So this is how you got them to take the poison?" I asked, suddenly realizing.

"By playing chance with them?" I added.

"It's not chance, its _chess_" he corrected. He went on explaining he did everything but my foggy mind wasn't paying close attention. My head turned towards the sound of a gun being loaded.

"Pick one" the man said, pointing his handgun at me and gesturing for one of the pills. I hesitated for a moment. I heard sirens close by and I knew Sherlock had realized what happened. I had to keep him talking.

"So this is what you did?" You threatened them to take a pill?" I asked.

"But why?" And it suddenly clicked. He was dying.

"Your dying" I said quietly.

"Aneurism" he explained pointing to the side of his head.

"Any breath could be my last. But the good thing is, I get payed for each person I kill. I've outlived 4 people so far. And now I'm going to outlive you as we'll" he explained.

"Who's making you do this?" I asked out of curiosity. I didn't get my answer as a bullet flew from the window and into the man's chest. He tumbled from his chair. I stood up and watched in horror as the blood swept through his shirt. Someone burst through door at that moment and I felt strong arms guiding me outside.

**So I decided to write the part about the cabbie like it was in the unaired Sherlock pilot. I also changed some sentences but they still have the same meaning! Review if you liked this chapter or not!**


	5. Chapter 5

**A study in Pink has been successfully completed! Keep a lookout for the Blind Banker! Enjoy :D**

I sat on the outside of an ambulance as someone out a blanket over my shoulders. I thanked them, taking no notice as to who it was. I stared at the ground till I felt someone next to me.

"Are you alright?" Asked a velvety voice. I immediately looked up and found myself staring into a pair of piercing blue eyes.

"Yes I'm fine" I lied. I was in an obvious state of shock. I've gotten a bloody blanket!

"Thank you for coming Sherlock" I said quietly, turning away from him.

"I knew he would come after you. So I had to come and help" he replied with a little smile.

"But I didn't do it alone..." He added his voice trailing as he glanced over at John who was standing near the police tape line. Sherlock chuckled.

"Come on" he said stretching out his hand to help me down from the ambulance. I took it with a bit hesitation. For some reason, I felt safe with this man who was presumed dangerous.

We walked over to John who stood there smirking.

"Nice shot" Sherlock told John as we entered the flat. John laughed lightly.

"It was nothing. I had to keep Rachel safe" John said patting me on the shoulder. I smiled back at both of them.

"Goodnight Rachel" Sherlock said before bounding up the steps to their flat.

"Goodnight" I replied quietly entering my own room and flopping down on my bed. What a heck of a life I've gotten myself into.

So far, living at 221C Baker Street was more normal then I expected. I've gotten job as a journalist for Scotland Yard and I haven't been dragged into one of Sherlock's cases in a while now. Either he was dead or I was just extremely lucky!

I woke up to the sound of my alarm going off. I lazily shut it off and lay on my back. I sighed happily as I opened my eyes and slipped out of bed. I went into the kitchen to make myself some breakfast. After eating quickly, I shoved my note pad and some pens into my bag, which was already full of papers. I walked to the bathroom and quickly went through my morning routine. Once again, I faced the horrible battle of the day: my hair. I decided to put it up in a high pony tail and not waste any more time or I would be late for my first day at work. After applying a bit of make up to bring out my pale features, I slipped into some black skinny jeans, my regular combat boots, a blouse and a blazer. I swung my bag over my shoulder and walked out the door. I glanced up the staircase to 221B and heard a violin playing. _How is he awake at 5 am with no job!? _I pushed open the front door and entered the busy street.

I actually made it on time for my first day, so hopefully I made a good impression. Lestrade me showed to an office that I would be sharing with 3 other people. There were 4, dark wooded desks in the office and the entire room was quite big. Lestrade appointed me to an empty desk in the back of the room. I thanked him as he walked out of the room. I slowly set my bag down on my chair as I watched the other inhabitants of the office. 2 young women and 1 man. One of the women had long, fiery red hair and the other had chocolate brown curls. The man was faired haired and blue eyed. _Though his eyes weren't as beautiful as Sherlock's. Why am I comparing Sherlock to a man I haven't even met yet!? _I sat down as the 2 women and the man came up to me with smiling faces.

"You must be Rachel! Yeah Lestrade told us that there would be another reporter in the office and we were just so excited to meet you!" The red haired woman exclaimed.

"Yes I'm Rachel. It's lovely to meet you" I said holding out my hand to the red haired woman.

"I'm Emma" the red haired woman said, shaking my hand.

"I'm Eleanor" said the brown haired woman, stretching her hand out for me to shake.

"Nice to meet you" I said shaking her hand.

"I'm Scott" the man said in a Scottish accent, shaking my hand. I smiled at him. _Maybe I have a chance with him?_

After the introductions had been made, we just sat at out desks, facing each other, talking about anything that crossed our minds. They told me about their lives and I told them about mine.

"Wait, your not joking about living in the same building as Sherlock Holmes!?" Emma asked.

"No. He lives in the flat above me" I explained.

"So, are you two together?" Eleanor asked.

"No! God no. I would never date Sherlock! He's... Well, he's Sherlock!" I protested.

"You fancy him!" Scott exclaimed.

"I do not!" I protested once more.

"Oh come on. Even I find those cheekbones sexy. Or maybe its the mysterious demeanour? I heard some girls at the hospital going on and on about curls. Personally I think he's hot" Scott said, staring dreamily at the wall. I looked at Emma and Eleanor for an explanation. They grinned as I started laughing. _Maybe I don't have a chance with him anymore..._

"Oh Scott. One day ill introduce you to him" I said, giving him a smile. His face lit up.

"Really? Oh god I'd love to meet him. I'm sure I'm not the only one who finds that man hot! Who doesn't like detectives?" Scott said, giving me an innocent smile.

"You like detectives?" Eleanor asked.

"Yes I do! And I've got a detective of my own!" He exclaimed pointing to the door.

"Really? Who?" I asked.

"Sargent Dean Thomas" Scott said proudly.

"He's cute!" Eleanor commented.

"Yeah he is. And he's mine. So you better back off honey" Scott said snapping his fingers and waving his hand. This earned a laugh from each of us.

**I hope you guys liked Scott! I've got more funny adventures about him in other chapters! Review :)**


	6. Chapter 6

**So it's the Blind Banker now! Hope you enjoy it :D**

The next morning was Saturday, so no work! I lazily got out of bed and headed towards the bathroom. I quickly went through my morning routine. I stepped out of the bathroom walked to my closet. I stared at it for a moment before pulling out some clothes.

I quickly put on some skinny jeans, combat boots and a t shirt as I quickly ate my breakfast. John had invited me for tea this morning so I had to hurry, even if they did live a stair case away. I decided to let my hair down this morning. I slipped out the door and locked it, slipping the key into my pocket. I walked cautiously up the steps, trying to listen to any voices coming from their flat. All was quiet, except for a muffled, metal scraping sound. I winced at hearing the awful noise once more but it stopped as soon as I knocked on the door. I waited patiently for someone to open the door but nobody did. It wasn't like John to keep a guest waiting so I figured Sherlock must be in the flat alone. An annoyed sigh escaped my lips as I knocked on the door once more before turning the knob. I grunted when I saw the arrogant detective sitting in his armchair, reading a book.

"Hello to you too" Sherlock said without looking up from his book.

"Aren't you supposed to be on a case?" I asked, slightly annoyed. Sherlock opened his mouth to speak but was interrupted by John coming through the door, looking slightly frustrated.

"Oh hello Rachel" John said nodding me. I smiled as he walked over to the detective, his fist clenched.

"I didn't get the shopping" John finally said.

"What? Why?" Sherlock asked, his eyes snapping up from his book.

"I had a row..." John began. It wasn't like John to argue, except if it's Sherlock, and it certainly wasn't like him to get involved in a fight.

"With a chip-and-pin machine" He continued. Sherlock was staring at him, trying his best to hide the smirk growing on his handsome face. I couldn't suppress the laughter inside me so I let it out.

"What happened?" I managed after a fit of laughter.

"It sat there and I shouted abuse at it" John explained.

"Have you got cash?" John asked Sherlock.

"Take my card" Sherlock replied with a handsome grin, nodding towards his wallet on the kitchen table. John walked over there and started rummaging in his wallet.

"What about that case, the Jaria Diamond was it?" John called from the kitchen. Sherlock shifted in his seat and I could have sworn, his foot collided with something metallic which gave away a _clink_.

"Not interested" Sherlock replied turning his attention to the book. Suddenly his head twitched to the side, as if he heard something that caught his attention. _Probably a compliment_. I smiled at that thought.

"I need to go to the bank" Sherlock stated, standing up and placing his book back on the shelf.

"And I need a job" John sad quietly.

"Why don't you get one?" I asked, as Sherlock slipped into his coat and tied his scarf around his neck. He walked towards the door but stopped in his tracks.

"Coming?" He asked, turning around and showing his smirk.

"Uh fine" I groaned as I followed John out of the flat and towards the busy street.

I followed Sherlock and John into a tall, glass building. Once inside, I knew we weren't here for regular bank business. This place was too prestigious. This must be another case Sherlock managed to drag me into. I decided to make to best of it so I took out my note pad and a pen and started scribbling down little notes as I followed Sherlock and John through a hallway of offices. I felt someone tug on the back of my shirt.

"Careful" Sherlock said from behind me. I glanced up from my note pad and I noticed I would have walked into a man with a cup of scolding hot coffee if Sherlock hasn't pulled me back.

"Thanks" I muttered, slipping my note pad into my pocket. We got into an elevator. The whole compartment was made of glass and I could see how far up we were.

"Rachel, are you alright?" John asked.

"Yes why?" I managed to say. I thought the fear of heights would prevent any comprehensible speech.

"We'll you ghostly pale and your holding on to Sherlock's arm like if your holding on for dear life, which doesn't happen white often" John explained pointing at my tight grip around the quiet uncomfortable looking detective.

"Just a little fear of heights. Sorry" I said quietly as I backed away from Sherlock a few feet. My cheeks tinged and rosy pink. The elevator doors opened and Sherlock quickly got out, with John and I at his heels. He entered an office and waited impatiently for us to come in. There were three chairs and Sherlock gestured to sit. I sat in between John and Sherlock, in front of a wooden desk. There were a lot of files on the messy desk, as well as a computer. Behind the desk sat an official looking man, with gelled, black hair, a grey suit and a blue patterned tie.

"Sherlock Holmes" the man said stretching his hand out to Sherlock.

"Sebastian" Sherlock said stiffly as he shook his hand.

"How are you buddy? How long has it been? Eight years since I last clapped eyes on you?" Sebastian asked. Sherlock merely smiled.

"These are my friends, John Watson and Rachel Levine" Sherlock said, gesturing towards John and I.

"Friends?" Sebastian asked, his eyes drifting towards me. I grew uncomfortable under his gaze and I shifted in my seat.

"Colleagues" John corrected. Sherlock shot him a dirty look.

"So your doing well. You've been abroad a lot" Sherlock stated.

"We'll so?" Sebastian asked.

"Flying round the world. Twice a month" Sherlock explained.

"Right. Your doing that thing again" Sebastian said pointing a finger at Sherlock.

"We were at Uni together and this guy had a trick he used to do" Sebastian continued.

"It's not a trick" Sherlock said quietly.

"He could tell your whole life story" Sebastian continued.

"Yes we've seen him do it" John corrected.

"Put the wind up in everybody. We hated him. We'd come down to breakfast in the formal hall and this freak would know you'd been shagging the previous night" Sebastian explained.

"He's not a freak" I declared. Sherlock turned to look at me. He had a genuine smile on his handsome face. _Why did I just defend him?_

"I simply observe" Sherlock explained.

"Go on, enlighten me. Two trips a month, flying all the way around the world, you're quite right. How could you tell? Are you going to tell me there's a stain on my tie from some special kind of ketchup you can only buy in Manhattan?" Sebastian said sarcastically.

"No I-" Sherlock began.

"Is it the mud on my shoes?" Sebastian asked sarcastically once more.

"I was just chatting with your secretary outside. She told me" Sherlock explained. Sebastian immediately turned away from embarrassment.

"I'm glad you could make it over, we've had a break-in. Sir William's office - the bank's former chairman. The room's been left here like a sort of memorial. Someone broke in late last night" Sebastian said, eager to change the subject.

"What did they steal?" I asked.

"Nothing. Just left a little message. 60 seconds apart. So, someone came up here in the middle of the night, splashed paint around and left within a minute" Sebastian explained.

"How many ways into that office?" Sherlock asked, shifting in his sit.

"Well, that's where this gets really interesting. Every door that opens in this bank, it gets locked right here. Every walk-in cupboard, every toilet" Sebastian stated.

"That door didn't open last night?" Sherlock asked.

"There's a hole in our security. Find it and we'll pay you - five figures. This is an advance. Tell me how he got in. There's a bigger one on its way" Sebastian said, handing Sherlock a check.

"I don't need an incentive, Sebastian" Sherlock said, standing up without taking the check and walking out of the room.

"He's, er... ..he's kidding you, obviously. Shall I look after that for him? Thanks" John said, standing up and taking the check and leaving the office. Sebastian turned to me with a smirk.

"So are you busy tonight?" He asked. _God was this old man really asking me out!?_

"Rachel are you coming?" Sherlock asked leaning against the door frame.

"Coming" I relied as I quickly got out of the room. I glanced over my back and saw Sherlock shoot Sebastian a dirty look.

**Hope you guys liked this chapter! Review :)**


	7. Chapter 7

**Did you guys notice the jealous Sherlock? I wonder if that's going to come up again... Enjoy!**

"Alright let's split up. Come on Rachel" Sherlock said gesturing for me to follow him. I shrugged to the confused looking John. I followed Sherlock as he passed between a row of cubicles. He stopped in his tracks as he looked at something in the other side of the room. I leaned against the wall as I watched him move from cubicle to cubicle, ducking behind walls and crouching and coming back up as he stared at a painting in the other side of the room. I suppressed a giggle as he did this.

"Come" he said pulling on my hand, leading me towards an office. Once inside the office, I noticed the painting Sherlock had been watching. It was the painting of a man with some kind of yellow graffiti spray painted over it. Sherlock looked at the painting up close for about a minuet before heading out the door.

"Is that all?" I asked.

"Got everything I need to know already. That graffiti was a message. Someone at the bank, working on the trading floors. We find the intended recipient and..." Sherlock explained.

"They'll lead us to the person who sent it" I finished.

"We'll theres 300 people here, who was it meant for?" I asked as we headed to the main floor. I tried my best to keep calm with the heights, but I instinctively stayed close to Sherlock.

"Pillars" he stated.

"What?" I asked.

"Pillars and the screens. Very few places you could see that graffiti from. That narrows the field considerably. And, of course, the message was left at 11.34 last night. That tells us a lot" he explained.

"Does it?" I asked. We bumped into John in our way outside and headed towards the busy street together.

"Traders come to work at all hours. Some trade with Hong Kong in the middle of the night. That message was intended for somebody who came in at midnight. Not many Van Coons in the phone book. Taxi!" Sherlock called as we hoped into the cab.

We arrived at the building where the man that the message was intended for lived. Sherlock rang the button to Eddie Vancoon's apartment a few times with no luck. John had sat down on the steps of the building while I stood waiting next to Sherlock.

"So what do we do now? Sit here and wait for him to come back?" John asked.

"Just moved in" Sherlock said, scanning the list of residents of the building.

"What?" I asked.

"The floor above, new label" he explained. I sighed and sat down next to John.

"Could have just replaced it" I said. It was more of a question then a statement.

"No- no one every does that" Sherlock as he pressed the button near the new label.

"Hello?" Said a woman through the intercom. What I witnessed before me was the strangest event ever.

"Um hi! Um I live in the flat below you. I don't think we've met" Sherlock said in an oddly, high pitched voice with a fake smile.

"We'll no. I just moved in" the woman replied.

"Actually, I've just locked my keys in my flat" Sherlock said, again with the oddly, high pitched voice. I covered my mouth with my hand at his idiotic he looked, and sounded.

"Do you want me to buzz you in?" She asked.

"Yeah. And I can use your balcony?" Sherlock asked, his voice returning to normal. _That's_ the detective I knew.

John and I waited outside the door of Eddie Vancoon's flat. Sherlock and entered from the balcony. I refused to go with my fear of heights and John refused to leave me alone. So here we stood, waiting for Sherlock to open the door. I pressed my ear against the door to hear any movement. All I heard was shuffling feet.

"Sherlock, open the bloody door" John said from behind me. I heard steps coming towards the door. It swung open and I ended up falling as I had my ear pressed against the door. I felt something soft yet muscled and I realized I had fallen onto Sherlock. I heard John laughing somewhere above me. Heat rushed to my face and immediately blushed as I Sherlock's awkward cough brought me back to reality.

"Oh sorry" I said getting up. He sprang to his feet and dusted off his coat. John stood near the doorway, grinning widely.

"I'll get you" I hissed. He chuckled as he walked further into the flat. It was a nice flat. A bit like my own, except much more glamorous. This man was definitely paid greatly. I heard John and Sherlock talking in Vancoon's bedroom. I walked toward the window in the living and noticed it was wide open. _This isn't the balcony, so Sherlock couldn't have come in through here..._ I paused my thinking once someone tapped me on the shoulder.

"Yes?" I asked, turning around. I faced a man, a few years older then me. He wasn't exactly handsome, with his balding head and serious look but he had kind eyes.

"Who are you?" He asked. Before I could reply, the arrogant detective came into the room.

"She's with me, Sargent" Sherlock said as he looked around the room. I noticed he and taken his coat off and was now in one his usual slim suits.

"It's Detective Inspector Dimmock now" he said.

"Oh congratulation" Sherlock said sarcastically.

"We'll were obviously looking at a suicide" the DI stated.

"It does seem like a credible theory" John added coming into the room.

"Wrong, it's one possible explanation of some of the facts. You've got a solution that you like, but you are choosing to ignore anything you see that doesn't comply with it" Sherlock explained.

"Like?" the DI asked.

"The wound's on the right side of the head" Sherlock explained. I glanced around the room and noticed everything was placed the way a left handed man would place it.

"Vancoon was left handed. Requires quite a bit of contortion" Sherlock said as he demonstrated shooting your right temple with your left hand. It was quite funny and somehow cute the way his curls twirled as he did this. _Why am I thinking about this!?_

"Left handed?" Dimmock asked. Sherlock glanced over at me and saw I understood exactly what he meant. He gave me a genuine smile.

"I'm amazed you didn't notice except for Rachel. All you have to do is look around this table on the left-hand side, coffee mug handle pointing to the left. Power sockets, habitually used the ones on the left. Pen and paper on the left of the phone. Picked up with his right, took messages with his left. D'you want me to go on?" Sherlock said as he gestured to everything he pointed out.

"No I think you covered it" John said with a sigh.

" might as well, I'm almost at the bottom of the list. There's a knife on the breadboard with butter on the right side of the blade because he used it with his left. It's highly unlikely that a left-handed man would shoot himself in the right of his head. Conclusion, someone broke in here and murdered him -only explanation of all of the facts" Sherlock explained.

"But the gun?" I asked.

"He was waiting for the killer. He had been threatened" Sherlock explained.

"What?" Dimmock asked.

"Today at the bank, sort or warning" I explained. I walked around the room as Sherlock continued his explanation. Once I heard no more voices I turned and saw Sherlock heading out the door and John waiting for me. Dimmock came up to me.

"So are you busy tonight?" Dimmock asked. _Uh god!_

"Come on, Rachel" Sherlock said, coming into the room and tugging in my sleeve. He pulled me out of the flat and towards the lift.

"Are they together?" Dimmock asked John.

"No. But we're having an office bet on how long it would take for them to start dating. Want in?" John asked. Sherlock and Rachel had started shouting at each other.

"Sure" Dimmock said, shaking John's hand.

**I thought the bet would be a bit witty so I added it to the plot. Review :D**


	8. Chapter 8

**Hope you guys enjoy this chapter :)**

I plopped down on my bed. God what an exhausting day. Luckily, John had the good sense to get me back to my flat before I collapsed from exhaustion. Walking around London in one whole morning could get any energetic person sleeping as soundly as a baby. Sherlock and John had continued their chase while I took a cab back to my flat. Wonder what would happen to them if I wasn't there keeping them out of trouble. I quickly changed into some jogging pants and a flannel shirt. I walked lazily into my kitchen and made myself a sandwich while I waited for my tea. Once finished with nourishing my tired body, I went over to my bookshelf. I looked for a good book to read. One exceptional book caught my eye. I pulled out _Harry Potter: The Deathly Hallows_ from its place on the shelf. I got under the covers on my bed and started reading. I dozed off somewhere around _The Battle of Hogwarts_.

Someone was knocking on the door. My eyes flew open as something hit the ground with a thud. Oh just my book. I lazily got out of bed and headed towards the door. On the way I checked if I looked presentable for a visitor in the mirror. My hair was in its usual golden and curly state. My makeup hadn't been disturbed which was great. I turned the knob and opened the door.

"Hello" Sherlock said. I stared at him with astonishment. _Why was at my doorstep!?_

"Um hi" I said awkwardly.

"May I come in?" He asked. I mentally slapped myself for being stupid enough as not to let him in. I stepped aside as he walked through the door. He didn't have his coat on so he must have been home for a while. I slipped my phone out of my pocket and checked the time. I've been sleeping for 6 hours...

"... It's in London for one night" Sherlock said handing me a piece of paper for a circus.

"Sorry what?" I asked, hoping I didn't appear stupid.

"I said, I'd like to take you to a circus which is in London for one night only" he explained. I stared at him once more, with astonishment.

"What? Really?" I replied. I looked down at the piece of paper and noticed the even started in an hour. _Why would Sherlock Holmes want to take me to a circus? Is this like a date!? He doesn't have his usual blazer on... He looks really good... Why am I thinking about this!?_

"Um yes" he replied, his pale cheeks turning a light rosy colour.

"I'd love too" I said with a smiled back and turned to walk out of the flat.

"Wait Sherlock" I called. He turned around and leaned against the doorframe, hands in his pockets.

"Hmm?"

"Is this like a date?" I asked, a blush dancing its way into my usually pale cheeks.

"I guess it is" He replied. With a wink, he bounded up the steps to his flat and the door slammed shut.

"Did I just agree to go an a date with Sherlock Holmes" I muttered to myself as I closed the door slowly. I made my way towards my closet and looked for an appropriate outfit.

Knowing Sherlock, this date would probably end with chasing a murderer or even a fight. Might as well wear something nice yet not valuable. I hoped into the bathroom and quickly took a shower. I made my impossible hair presentable. I applied some make up and tinted my lips a deep red. I slipped into some black skinny jeans. I put on a red glimmer t shirt and a denim jacket. I laced some black studded combat boots on my ankles. I tucked a note pad, a pen and my phone in my jacket pocket. I pulled my hair over my shoulder and watched as the blond curls cascaded down to the small of my back. Long and curly hair; mission impossible. I slipped my flat keys into my pocket as I locked my door. I climbed the steps and hesitated before knocking on the door. I pulled my phone out of my pocket. Sherlock would start rambling about me being late so better to go in now. I knocked on the door and waited patiently for someone to answer. After a moment, the door was pulled open and there stood John, blond hair combed, wearing a plaid shirt with a blazer. Reeking of cologne. He's got a date.

"Hello John! You look handsome tonight" I exclaimed as he opened the door wider for me to come in. His cheeks reddened at my comment and I smiled. I noticed a lot of boxes filled with books. Books were strewn all over the floor. Books were everywhere.

"Wow" John said, looking me over.

"You look great! If you don't mind me asking, where are you going?" John asked.

"Believe it or not-" I started until a certain detective cut me off as he entered the room. Sherlock was wearing his usual slim suit but this one was some how different. He was wearing a black button down and his messy curls looked better then usual. Does that mean his curls usually look good?

"We're going out" Sherlock continue for me, with a genuine smile.

"What?" John asked, completely dumbfounded.

"Sherlock, you do realize that 'going out' is when two people who like each other go out and have fun" John explained.

"That's what I was implying" Sherlock said, turning to a confused looking John.

"Oh wait are you two- oh hold on!" John said, pulling out his phone.

"What are you doing?" I asked as I approached him and peered over his shoulder to look at his phone.

"Made an office bet to see how long it would take you two to finally get together!" John explained. He looked up from his mobile and glanced at Sherlock and I. Sherlock's cheeks had actually turned rosy.

"Sherlock your blushi-" John began but Sherlock cut him off.

"Yes I know the physical reaction to sentiment John" Sherlock explained quietly.

"You know sentiment?" John asked with a light chuckle.

"There is an organ inside of me that keeps me going, it does conduct sentiment every so often" Sherlock explained as his cheeks turned red once more. Did he just admit he had feelings for me!?

"Um maybe we should go" I said, breaking the tension and walking towards the doorway. I passed a grinning John who I nudged in the ribs. I smiled happily as he groaned in minor pain. I bounded down the steps with Sherlock following me.

"Where exactly are we?" I asked as we headed towards an old building surrounded by Chinese lamps.

"This is a Chinese circus..." I said quietly. I glanced at him and he nodded.

"This should be fun" he said as we walked through the doors.

After getting our tickets, Sherlock and I entered a wide room. A small crowd was forming in the middle of the room. The place was dark except for a spotlight shining in the middle of the crowd. We came to the middle of the room. There was a tall object covered with a veil. A woman in a pink kimono and white make up stood next to it.

"It's a Chinese opera singer" Sherlock whispered into my ear. I glanced at him and noticed how close he was standing to me. I could almost feel the heat radiating from his body. There was a low drumming music as the woman ripped the veil off the masque object. It was a sort of tripod, with a large arrow in it. There was a silver bow on the object as well, as if to balance it out. "She's going to put a feather in the bowl, which will let the arrow out" Sherlock explained just as the woman pulled a white feather from her kimono. I watched curiously as she barely placed the feather into the bowl, the arrow had already sunk itself into the wall with a sharp noise. I jumped at the noise and accidentally moved back into Sherlock's chest. I blushed at the contact.

"Sorry" I whispered as I moved away. I glanced at him and saw a little smile leaving his face. The woman in the dress brought out some kind of warrior and strapped him to the wall where the first arrow had impaled itself.

"The woman is going to split a sandbag. The warrior must break free from his bonds before the sand fills up in the bowl" Sherlock explained. I held my breath as the woman punctured a hole in the sandbag dangling from the ceiling. Sand started filling up into the bowl and the warrior started struggling with his bonds. His managed to get his hands out and was now trying to let his body out. The bowl was quickly filling up. The warriors groans of struggle filled the room for everyone held their breath out of fright. The arrow had finally left its place from the tripod, but not before the warrior had fell off the wall and onto the floor. Sherlock coughed awkwardly as everyone began clapping.

"Rachel, may I have my arm back?" He asked. I looked down and saw that I have been clutching onto his arm for the past five minutes. I blushed and quickly let go of his arm. After a few moments, the new act was introduced. It was some sort of acrobat. Suddenly I saw Sherlock stare at the other side of the room, where the Chinese Opera singer had gone. Then it all clicked.

"Sherlock are we here because of a case?" I whispered. He didn't look me in the eye nor did he answer. I sighed as I realized this was a case.

"Sherlock, that graffiti from this morning, those were Chinese symbols weren't they? That's why we're here?" I asked, pulling on his arm so he would look me in the eye. Instead he decided the floor is much more interesting. Was he... Ashamed?

"They were ciphers. He explained. John and I found out at the shop where Vancoon and Lukis brought smuggled items back from China. Both were smugglers. One of them was suspected of stealing something. We went to the Museum of Antiques, where our Chinese translated was unfortunately gunned down. Now I came here because I think that the organization that smuggles these artifacts are the Chinese circus. They do need some kind of cover after all. All I've got to do is check if its them and decoded the ciphers" he explained. I stared at him with widened eyes.

"So that's why you brought me here? Couldn't you have taken John!? It wouldn't matter really. People already think he's gay. But no, you had to drag me into this. Did you even care about how I would feel if I found out why you brought me here!?" I shout-whispered. I looked into his eyes and he had a bit of a pained expression on his face. Usually he doesn't show any type of emotion but now it was clearly hurt. Suddenly his eyes flew up to the other side of the room again. His brow furrowed in concentration.

"Come" he said as he started walking towards the other side of the room.

"Sherlock I am not going any where" I said. He stopped walking and looked back at me.

"If you stay here alone, you'll be in the midst of murderers. I don't want you to get hurt so just follow me quickly!" He shout-whispered. Did he just say he didn't want me to get hurt? I quickly followed him as we sneak behind the curtain that separated the twos spaces.

Someone entered the dark area just as Sherlock and I crouched down behind the clothing rack. Being the clumsy person I am, I knocked over a prop, but I caught it before it hit the floor as the agile person I am. Sherlock glared at me and I mouthed an apology. Once we were sure who ever was just there left, we came out of hiding. Sherlock twirled around, looking for something. He approached a dressing table and took a spray can from it. He sprayed the mirror. Yellow paint. Just like the one at the bank.

"We've got to get out of here. We have to leave qui-" Sherlock was cut off as a statue from behind my sprang to its feet. The now not-a-statue-anymore-man pushed me to the wall behind me. I hit the wall and the breath I've been holding since I found out it was the same paint, left me. My head felt extremely dizzy and bloody painful. I heard a lot of movements. I managed to turn my head to the side and I saw Sherlock and the man were fighting. I waited for a few moments until the pain in my back subsided but as soon as I stood up, Sherlock was thrown through the curtain separating the two areas. Suddenly, my years of kick-boxing experience kicked into and walked up to the man who and just turned to me. I kicked him right in the gut and sent him flying through the curtain.

I rushed to the other side of the room to find Sherlock. He was lying on the floor and everybody had scattered the area. _Typical cowards_. I took out my phone and texted John and Lestrade. I put my phone in my pocket and kneeled down next to Sherlock.

"Sherlock get up" I begged, as I noticed the I had just kicked was regaining consciousness.

"Please Sherlock get up!" I said, as I shook his shoulder. He groaned and started getting up.

"Are you alright?" I asked as I stood up as well.

"Never better" he said as his fist connected with the fully conscious man's face. The punch immediately knocked him out.

"Did you call Lestrade?" Sherlock asked.

"Yes and I texted John as well" I said. A few seconds later, John burst through the door, followed by a woman in a brown blazer with brown hair. I immediately felt self-conscious as I noticed she was wearing a skirt and had nice makeup and hair. I tucked a blond curl behind my ear. I noticed Sherlock had been watching me the whole time. I blushed under his intense gaze.

"Sherlock what happened?" John asked as he approached Sherlock and me. He looked me over for any injuries. Then he turned to Sherlock, who's jaw began reddening.

"We're going to have to put some ice on that" John said as he examined Sherlock's reddening jaw.

"I'm fine John" Sherlock stated as he batted his hands away.

"You found him?" John asked, looking down the man on the floor. I left the men to talk about their bloody case and walked over to the woman that had come with John.

"Hello. I'm Rachel" I said holding out my hand.

"I'm Sarah" she said as she shook it.

"Are you John's date?" I asked curiously.

"Yes" she said. Her eyes darted between Sherlock and me.

"Are you and John's friend toge-" She began but I immediately cut her off.

"No were not together. Honestly, I don't understand how everyone always assumes that" I said as my cheeks turned rosy.

"Oh" Sarah said.

"Are you alright? No injuries?" She asked.

"No I'm fine. I think Sherlock's the one who might have a pretty big bruise on his face" I stated.

"If you don't mind me asking, how did you and John meet?" I asked, looking at her curiously.

"We work together at the hospital" she explained with a smile. I nodded and smiled. I turned to Sherlock and John who were approaching us.

"Let's go, shall we?" John said as he led Sarah towards the door. I glanced at Sherlock.

"Are you sure you're alright?" I asked him once Sarah and John were out of earshot.

"I'm fine. Honestly" he said as he started walking. I followed him out the building. I looked around and noticed Sarah and John had gotten a cab of their own. I followed Sherlock down the street as he proceeded to get a cab. I shivered a bit as we walked down the street. It was a cold night and I decided to wear a bloody t shirt and a little jacket.

"Are you cold?" Sherlock asked, as he glanced at my shivering form.

"No" I lied quickly.

"You're a terrible liar" Sherlock said with a slight chuckle as he took off his coat and put it around my shoulders. I stared at him in surprise.

"What? Don't stare at me like that. I _can_ be compassionate sometimes" he stated quietly. I smile spread across my face.

"How come only John and I know about this 'compassionate Sherlock'" I asked as he hailed a cab.

"We'll, the two of you are the only people I'm extremely fond of and I don't consider neither of you idiots" Sherlock explained as he opened the door of the cab for me. I quickly jumped into the warmth of the taxi.

"Um thanks. I guess?" I said as I handed him his coat back.

"For what?" Sherlock asked as he pulled his coat around his shoulders.

"For not thinking of me as an idiot" I explained with a smile.

"We'll your not. Your very bright. So is John" Sherlock said with a little smile. He's talking about what he thinks of John and I... Yep he's acting strange.

We arrived at 221B quickly. I followed Sherlock up the steps into the flat. John and Sarah were talking in the kitchen.

"Wait" Sherlock said as he threw his coat on the armchair and ran to his bookshelf.

"Sherlock what are you doing?" John asked as he walked over to where I was standing.

"It has to be a book everybody owns" Sherlock said as he pulled out the bible, a dictionary and some other books everyone owns. He started muttering something to himself. I glanced at John who just sighed.

"I need some air" Sherlock said putting on his coat and wrapping his scarf around his neck. He ran out the door. Once the front door opened and closed, I felt something hard and heavy hit my head. I couldn't cry out to John and Sarah because they were lying on the floor. What's going on? I managed to blink a few times before collapsing on the floor.

I opened my eyes slowly. Even blinking hurt. The pain in my head was immense. I couldn't turn my head for fear of more pain so I just looked straight ahead of me. I saw John. His head was bleeding and he was unconscious in a chair. I saw Sarah who was sniveling but unconscious as well. The three of us were bound to chairs. And Sherlock was no where to be seen. John groaned as he started regaining consciousness.

"Sarah? Rachel? Are you alright?" John asked, his voice croaking a bit. Sarah was regaining consciousness as well. I nodded but the movement of my injured head already made me dizzy. Black dots danced before my eyes.

"John-" I began but my voice faltered. I immediately blacked out, again.

**So Rachel and Sherlock went on their first date! Sort of. I think this was my longest chapter yet and i hope you enjoyed it:) Reviews are appreciated!**


	9. Chapter 9

**I hate writing cliff hangers but somehow they make a story worth reading! Enjoy :)**

I opened my eyes slowly. The pain in my head subsided and I was able to take in my surroundings. It looked like an old tramway. There were two rubbish pins that had fires in them for light. The Chinese woman from the circus was talking to a frightened looking John. It took me a few moments to understand what they were saying and that she was holding him at gunpoint.

"Where's the hairpin?"the woman asked. Why was she holding John at gunpoint and going on about a hairpin?

"What?" John asked clearly confused.

"The Empress pin. Valued at nine million sterling. We already had a buyer in the West. And then one of our people was greedy. He took it, brought it back to London. And you, Mr. Holmes, have been searching" she explained.

"Please, please. Listen to me. I'm not Sherlock Holmes. You have to believe me. I haven't found whatever it is you're looking for" John protested. The woman gave him a cruel smile. She turned to Sarah and took a few steps towards her.

"Ladies and gentleman, from the distant, moonlit shores of NW1, we present for your pleasure Sherlock Holmes' pretty companion in a death-defying act" She said, putting on her circus act voice. That's when the crossbow caught my attention. The one from the circus. It was aimed at Sarah who ha begun crying. I heard John mumble apologies.

"Please!" John yelled.

"You've seen the act before. How dull for you. You know how it ends" she said as she came closer to the crossbow.

"No stop! Don't kill her. She wasn't there. It was there. You can kill me" I said. I waited for the tears to come but they didn't. Was I really ready for death that even my body refused to protest?

"No Rachel. Don't do this" John pleaded. I gave him a sad smile. He turned towards the Chinese woman.

"I'm not Sherlock Holmes!" John protested.

"I don't believe you" the woman said. Suddenly I saw a shadow flick across the wall in the firelight.

"You should, you know. Sherlock Holmes is nothing at all like him. How would you describe me, John? Resourceful, dynamic? Enigmatic?" Came Sherlock booming voice.

"Late" John and I muttered. One of the rubbish bins came tumbling down and the fire went out. There was the sound of metal and a body hitting the ground. I thought Sherlock had gotten hurt. I felt someone behind me, untying my bonds quickly but not clumsily. Suddenly they stopped. I noticed the woman pointing a gun at someone behind me. I turned my head slowly and saw Sherlock standing behind me.

"That's a semi-automatic. You fire it - the bullet will travel at a thousand metres per second" Sherlock said pointing at the gun.

"Well?" The woman asked.

"Well, these walls have a radius of curvature of nearly four metres. If you miss then the bullet will ricochet" Sherlock explained.

"I have to intention of missing" she protested.

"Who knows where? You could hit anyone. The bullet could bounce around the tunnel and hit you" Sherlock said. He took advantage of the time the woman took to think through her plan. He started untying my bonds once more. The sandbag that the woman had split had began filling up the bowl on the crossbow. I heard chocking behind me and turned to look. One of the men that had been guarding us was strangling Sherlock. The detective managed to throw a good hit to the man's face, which instantly knocked him out. The bowl was dangerously filled now. Another man had come after Sherlock. Now the tears had decided to come. A few tears trickled down my cheek as the bowl was almost full and Sherlock was fighting with a man behind me. I closed my eyes, waiting for death but it never came. I opened my eyes and saw John laying on the ground, still tied to the chair. The crossbow was turned and the arrow had impaled itself into the man Sherlock had been fighting. John gave me a weary smile. Sherlock started untying my bonds as he murmured comforting words into my ear. He untied my bonds and moved over to John. I closed my eyes and took a deep breath. I tried to stand up but my shaking knees betrayed me. I hit the ground with a groan. I felt strong arms help me to my feet.

"Thanks" I muttered as I looked up into Sherlock's eyes. They seemed to be a pale turquoise in the darkness. I noticed we were extremely close.

"We should um go" he said as he walked away. John, Sarah and I followed him out of the old tramway.

"We'll just slip off. No need to mention us in the report" Sherlock said as we walked past Detective Inspector Dimmock.

"Mr. Holmes..." Dimmock began.

"I have high hopes for you Inspector. A glittering career" Sherlock said. I thought I heard a hint of sarcasm there.

"I go where you point me" Dimmock said with a sigh. I felt Sherlock's hand on the small of my back as he led us towards a cab.

I walked through the threshold of 221 Baker Street. I've almost gotten myself killed and yet, I'm not going into shock. That's good and surprising.

"Rachel! Hold on" John called before I closed the door of my flat.

"I'm terribly sorry about tonight. You know it's really not our intention to potentially get you killed" John explained with a smile.

"John, it's alright. It's fun going around and chasing serial killers with two mad men" I said as I remembered Sherlock and John running after some murderer while I was about to be another victim.

"Right. That's good. Good night then" John replied before heading upstairs. I heard the door of 221B open and close. Some shouts where heard as well. Sherlock must have left an experiment in the kitchen. I smiled to myself as I walked into my flat. Too exhausted and a bit shaken up, I sink into the soft sheets of my bed and drift off into a deep sleep.

**So the Blind Banker is done! I hope you guys liked it. I might not update in a while because I've got to rewrite The Great Game, which has somehow disappeared from the other cases I've got in store for you all! Review :D**


	10. Chapter 10

**I am so sorry for not updating in a while! I've been so busy! I decided to create a case of my own before the Great Game! This is just a bit of a filler chapter before the new case. Enjoy :D**

_Knock knock knock_

I nearly dropped the bowl of pasta I was about to boil. I wonder if it's John. Maybe Sherlock's pissed him off and he wants to hide in my flat, like he did 4 times already. I set the bowl down on the kitchen counter and make my way towards the door. Whoever is on the other side is still knocking. I unlocked the door and opened it. There stood Sherlock, a bit of blood on his cheek and an appearing black eye.

"What happened?" I immediately inquired after I ushered him into my flat. Sherlock would have gone to John, who's a doctor, not me, a journalist. I watched as he sat down in one of the chairs by the counter in the kitchen.

"What ever do you mean?" Sherlock asked, as if he doesn't know that his face is bruised and battered. This is going to be a long night if he pretends he hadn't been beat up. Which is most likely what happened. I sat in the chair next to him and studied his face for any sign of emotion.

"I mean, why do you have a black eye. Oh wait, don't tell me the Great Sherlock Holmes walked into a lamp post" I said as I ignored the cold glare he gave me.

"No I didn't walk into a bloody post. John got mad and punched me" Sherlock explained. He had a bit of a hurt expression on his face. Like one a child would have if his mum refused to give him dessert.

"So why are you here?" I inquired. Sherlock scratched his head and looked away.

"John locked me out of the flat" Sherlock explained, defeated.

"You could have picked the lock" I proposed.

"No, that would have infuriated him further" Sherlock said. I nodded apprehensively and thought of what to do. Have him and John talk it over? No, they're grown men, they'd kill each other by the time I leave them alone. Maybe John should cool off the anger he has towards Sherlock before the sociopath can return to their flat. Sighing in defeat, I stood up and walked towards the bathroom.

"Where are you going?" Sherlock called. He sounded slightly alarmed, as if I would leave him all alone. I ignored his question and grabbed the first-aid kit. I walked back to the kitchen and set the kit down on the counter.

"I'm fine, I don't need your help" Sherlock said coldly.

"Then why did you come here?" I retorted.

"Fine" he admitted as I smiled proudly. I took his chin gently and turned his face so I could put the antiseptic on his cut cheek. I started to dab it onto his cheek and I swear, he flinched as the alcohol touched his flesh.

"So why did John punch you?" I asked as I began to wipe away the blood on his face.

"Doesn't matter" He stated flatly.

"Yes it does, because I'm the one patching you up" I protested.

"He was angry with me and I didn't understand why so he just insulted me a few times before punching me. Twice" Sherlock explained. He winced as I dabbed the last of the antiseptic on his cheek.

"There! All done" I exclaimed proudly. Sherlock gingerly touched his cut but I swatted his hand away.

"Don't touch it or it'll hurt" I warned.

"And the black eye will disappear in a few days" I added.

"Thank you" Sherlock said quietly. I smiled at him. Sometimes, I wondered where the gentleman side of Sherlock came from. He was always cold, cruel and emotionless, it was a surprise seeing this side of him.

"You should go to your flat, see if John is okay" I said, breaking the silence. Sherlock nodded and stood up.

"Goodnight Rachel" He called before leaving my flat. I heard him run up the creaky steps and a door open then close. No shouting. No body typed thuds hitting the floor. Everything must have worked out alright.

**Sorry if it's short, I just wanted to write this before digging into a new case. Review!**


	11. Chapter 11

**So this is where my new case starts!** **Enjoy :D**

Why do people always come pounding at my door during the night? I'm not a vampire, I don't stay up all night and wait for unexpected guests! Yesterday, Sherlock came, bruised and battered. I wonder who it can be today.

I jumped off the couch and walked towards the door. I unlocked it and opened it to found, yet again, Sherlock. No injuries today. His cut from yesterday was looking better. When I say looking better, I mean it looks like he's been beat up.

"Good evening Sherlock" I said politely.

"I need your help" He stated before taking my hand and dragging me to their flat. I guess I'll spend my Saturday evening with a sociopath and not my report on a new serial killer. Oh god, I'm turning into Sherlock.

"Why do you need my help?" I inquired after Sherlock let go of my hand and sat down in his armchair.

"Oh god, did he wake you up?" John asked as he came into the living room.

"No, but I'd like to know how I can be of help, to whatever I was dragged here for" I said.

"Lestrade told you of the new serial killer" Sherlock stated.

"How did you know?" I asked as I gave John a quizzical look. He shrugged his shoulders and went to make tea.

"You were writing before I came into your flat. The only thing you write are reports. Reports about investigations" Sherlock quickly explained. I nodded and sat down on the couch. Sherlock kept staring at me with narrowed eyes.

"John" I called.

"What did Sherlock do?" He asked.

"He's staring at me as if I've grown 2 heads. Please tell me that's not the case" I said. John chuckled and came into the living room with tea.

"One head. Not to worry" He said as he gave me my tea.

"So why are you staring at her?" He asked Sherlock.

"Because, you lot haven't noticed a few important details on the victims' appearances" Sherlock explained, never breaking eye contact with me.

"And what's that?" John asked.

"Blond hair and green eyes. Not very common is it? No it's not. Golden blond hair always goes with blue eyes. Dirty blond hair is common with brown eyes. So why does she have green eyes? The victims were all blond and had green eyes" Sherlock quickly stated.

"So what that I have green eyes?" I asked, suddenly a bit nervous.

"Does that mean I'm the next victim of a serial killer" I asked.

"No. You would have been dead by now-" Sherlock began but John cut him off.

"Sherlock" He warned. Sherlock broke his gaze from mine and looked at John.

"She's scared. Don't push it" He explained. Sherlock looked at me once again, probably deducing. I think it was pretty obvious I was scared. Well obvious for Sherlock. He _must_ have noticed that I fiddle with my fingers when I'm nervous. It's happened many times when I faced near death with this pair.

"I am sorry. Forgive me" He said quietly.

"Alright. So what do you mean? Why am I not dead?" I asked shakily.

"Because the victims didn't have a pure green tinge to their eyes. Some had yellow flecks, some were a mix of green and other colors, but green was the main color" He explained.

"And?" I said.

"Your not dead because your eyes are the perfect green" Sherlock stated. He stood up and began pacing the room. Maybe I'm changing his words, but in a way, Sherlock said my eyes are perfect... right?

"The killer must have been someone who hates disorders. That explains the death of people with blond hair and uncommon eye colors. It also explains the the killer didn't tolerate mixed eye colors. Once he saw the eyes of his victims, he felt compelled to kill them because the eye color wasn't perfect. The killer must have had an obsessive-compulsive disorder for neatness. As in they couldn't stand imperfection" Sherlock explained.

"That was amazing" I said. Sherlock stopped pacing and looked at me.

"Don't compliment him too much, he starts to expect it after every deduction" John said as he got up and went to the kitchen.

"You think it was amazing?" He asked me quietly.

"That was truly amazing" I replied with a smile. Sherlock gave me that half smirk of his before continuing to pace.

"John! We need to see Lestrade!" Sherlock suddenly exclaimed. He threw on his coat and wrapped his scarf around his neck.

"Rachel, can you come? I need proof for my theory" Sherlock said. I nodded and headed for the door to get my jacket. As I reached the bottom of the stairs, I heard John and Sherlock talking.

"You never need proof" John said. I could practically hear John teasing Sherlock. I heard no reply from the detective so I went ahead and got my jacket with a small smile.

**The case starts here! I wanted to make it different from the usual serial killer cases so I made it revolve around the fact that Sherlock noticed Rachel's rare eye color! Her eye color isn't that rare actually. It's my eye color except I'm a brunette and blond people usually can't have green eyes. Usually. Review!**


	12. Chapter 12

**I'm so sorry for the short chapters! I'll make this one as long as possible!** **Enjoy :)**

"Sherlock, you can't do that" I said sternly. John chuckled somewhere to my left.

"Yes I can" He protested like a little child.

"It's not in the rules!" I exclaimed. I rubbed my temples and stared at the blazing fire to my right. Sherlock was already giving me a headache.

"Well then the rules are wrong!" Sherlock almost yelled.

"It's just impossible for the victim to have done it, Sherlock" John added. I nodded in agreement. Sherlock glared at me before standing up and storming off to his room, robe billowing behind him. I winced when the door shut very loudly.

"So that's another game we're never playing" I declared as I packed away the board game we had been playing for last 2 hours because of Sherlock. Why did that man have to be so stubborn?

"Yep" John agreed as I handed him the box so he can put it away, or hide it from Sherlock.

"I'll go see if he's okay. You how children are with their games" I said as I stood up. I walked to his door and knocked gently. I heard a muffled reply to come in.

"Sherlock, you don't have to get frustrated. It's just a game" I said as I sat down on the edge of his bed. I watched as he paced the room.

"Sherlock?" I tried again. What's gone into him? He's been acting stranger, well stranger, since he explained the pattern of the serial killings to Lestrade.

"What?" He bit back coldly.

"I know you just finished a case and your probably bored but you can't go around being rude. Especially to anyone close to you. One day, you won't have John and I to annoy" I warned him. Sherlock stopped pacing and glared me. Finally realizing his defeat, he sighed and sat down next me.

I heard the floor boards creak. I quickly turned around expecting some assassin with a knife ready to slit my throat but it was just John. Cheeky, ol' John.

"How could you have possibly done that" John asked with a smile.

"What?" I asked. I glanced at Sherlock, wondering if he knew what John was talking about. He shrugged his shoulder and lay down on the bed, crossing his arms behind his head.

"One second Sherlock is ready to murder someone for contradicting him, then you talk to him and he's all cool and collected" John explained. Do I really do that?

"John, when have you known Sherlock to be cool and collected?" I inquired. Sherlock began protesting but I took a pillow and laid it on his face. John chuckled and leaned against the door frame.

"Much better" I said happily as I heard Sherlock's muffled sigh under the pillow.

"You two are like little children" John said.

"What does that make you, John?" Sherlock inquired, lifting the pillow off his face.

"Oi, watch it" John warned. Sherlock laughed. That laugh where you the small dimples in his cheeks and the sparkle in his eyes. I smiled and took the pillow from Sherlock, then hitting him over the head with it. John chuckled and headed back to the living room.

"You are insufferable, Sherlock Holmes" I said playfully as I stood up. I walked out of his room, past John to whom I had bid goodnight and down the stairs to my flat. I saw a shadow in the light of the open door of my flat, but it could have just been my own shadow. I passed the threshold and immediately, I felt something hard hit my head. My vision began to blur and only one thought came to mind:

Why do _I_ always have to get kidnapped by some angry assassin as bait for Sherlock!? Why not John? Everyone thinks they're a couple anyways!

I groaned as the light hit my eyes. There was a pounding in my temples and my ears were ringing. I tried to get up but something was holding me back. I looked down and saw that my wrists and ankles were bound by a tight rope. Great. Murderers couldn't get classier then rope. I quickly glanced around. Well I expected to be kept hostage in an old basement, potentially raped by some old men. But I was in what looked like a penthouse over looking London. There was all the furniture one would see in a expensive furniture catalog. I giant window replaced the fourth wall in the room. It was morning. God I've been here all night.

If I die in this really nice and luxurious penthouse, I'm going to haunt Sherlock for getting me into this mess. As soon as I figure out what mess I'm in.

"God morning love!" Said a cheery male voice behind me. I tried to turn around but the ropes burned my skin as I moved against them.

"I wouldn't move if I were you. It'll leave ugly scars" the man added when he saw me squirming in the chair I was strapped to.

"Why am I here?" I asked with more confidence then I really had.

"Oh I just wanted to see dear Sherlock's reaction to his little girlfriend being kidnapped" the man replied. Great.

"I can see why he likes you. You truly are beautiful and confident" the man said. Oh god, a murderer is complementing me. This day cannot get better.

"I love your golden hair by the way" he added. Scratch that. I'm being complemented by a gay murderer. His voice was closer and it sent shivers down my spine. I felt someone behind me. I also felt someone playing with my hair.

"Ok let's get to the point. You want Sherlock so you kidnapped me. But I just need to know this. Are you planning on torturing me or just killing me" I asked. The man chuckled and walked towards the window. I could see who we was but his back was turned so I couldn't see his face. He was wearing a suit. He also wasn't very tall. Probably as tall as me. His black hair was slicked back. Judging by his hands, he had pale skin.

"My dear Rachel, I'm going to do to you, anything that would break Sherlock Holmes" The man said as he turned around. He was handsome, if you didn't look at his beady black eyes or his creepy smile like murdering people in nice hotel rooms was as common as breathing.

If he planned on breaking Sherlock by torturing me, I'd probably be here for quite a while.

**Alright sooooo I wonder if that took any of you by surprise! Also, that moment at the beginning of the chapter where they were all laughing, yeah I wanted to make that a sort of family moment :D Also, here comes Moriarty, kidnapping people close to Sherlock once more. Review and I'll try to post the next chapter as soon as I can!**


	13. Chapter 13

**Alright so I'm going to try and NOT write about how Moriarty tortures Rachel just so Sherlock can come and save her. But you all know that Sherlock only meets Moriarty at the end of the Great Game... Enjoy :)**

I don't how long I've been imprisoned here. Oh sorry, I'm just trying to be dramatic. I've been in this penthouse for 5 days now. The man who had captured me had introduced himself as Jim Moriarty. I remember faintly of Sherlock mentioning some Moriarty character so I just assumed this was him. Unusual for a murderer, he untied my bonds, which left rope burns that'll last for a while, but warned that if I try to escape, he's got fingers on triggers waiting to be pulled.

I had a good look around the room, which contained a small kitchen on the far side (with food I'm not planning on eating), a king sized bed, a door that leads to the bathroom and and flat screen telly. Not to mention the fancy chandeliers and satin rugs. Especially the gold engravings on the walls. The perfect prison.

I found a pad of paper and pen so I've been writing about everything that's been happening to me everyday. Sometimes, I felt deep so I wrote about the 3 hour torture I would get. I've got more bruises and scars then words in the pad.

Other then being tortured, Moriarty treated me well. He almost killed one of the maids because she touched me for a millisecond. He's acting like an overprotective boyfriend nobody wants. Once, he tried to flirt but ended up stammering and walked out of the room with a blush, threatening to slit my throat if I laughed.

Now I just sat around, waiting if my knight-in-shining-armor would come and save me. Or Sherlock could come. Both options are good. I fiddled with a piece of paper before an idea came to mind. I tried origami a few years back so this should work.

I took a new piece of paper and folded it into envelop form. I put the pad I've been writing in into the envelop. What do I seal it with? I glanced around the room before my eyes landed on a jar of honey. Oh well, Sherlock is going to have to read it like that and know that I'm ok, and that I've got honey.

I quickly applied some of the sticky liquid to the envelop. Now how do I get it delivered to Sherlock? I scan the room before my eyes land on the window in the bathroom. Moriarty had told me that this hotel is next to something important to Sherlock... Does that mean St-Bart's is near? Sherlock could easily find the envelop if Bart's is near! I run to the window and try to open it. Yes! It opened! I opened it slightly and the envelop out. All my hope is in there, as well as a full description of how I was tortured as well as how hungry I am. I quickly ran to the sofa and sat down on it like nothing had happened. At least I was hoping it appeared as if nothing had happened.

"Rachel!" Moriarty sang as he walked into the room.

"Are you hungry darling? You've been refusing to eat since the first time I offered you food" He said.

"I wonder why" I mumbled and looked out the window.

"What was that love?" Moriarty asked cheerfully.

"Nothing!" I exclaimed. The truth, I was extremely hungry, but I wouldn't let him know that. I can't risk eating that food, it could be poisoned. And even if Moriarty tried to the food himself to prove it, everything could be contaminated except for what he ate!

"Don't worry dear, tonight I'm letting you go" He said. My eyes widened and I looked at him. Was he lying? He could easily be lying to gauge a reaction out of me. I narrowed my eyes as I stared at him.

"Why are you letting me go? Bored are you?" I asked.

"Oh no! Your not boring at all. I can why Sherly likes you" Moriarty began as he walked around the room.

"No, you see when I said I'm letting you go, I'm going to kill you in front of Sherlock and then I'll kill him and John!" Moriarty explained happily. I felt my heart beat has accelerated. He can't kill Sherlock and John. He can't and if he tries, I won't let him. Perhaps the only thing stopping me is my own death.

Now come on love, it's time for the show!" Moriarty exclaimed as he ushered me out of the apartment.

I heard muffled voices as I sat in the locker room of the pool. Moriarty had locked me in here for 5 hours and he only came back now, when John was about to be blown up.

"Show time" Moriarty said as he pulled a gun out of his trousers. He motioned for me to stand up. I did so and I felt the gun pressed against the back of my head. I walked out of the locker room slowly, the reason being that my legs were shaking and I would fall over any minute. Moriarty walked ahead of me and stood behind the half open door.

"I gave you my number" He called.

"I thought you might call" Moriarty added. He pushed me out the door with the tip of the gun.

" Is that British Army Browning L9A1 in your pocket" He began as he pushed me closer to them. John and Sherlock stared at me wide eyed. I saw Sherlock's hand move to his pocket as he pulled out a gun. I looked at John, who had bombs strapped to his chest. He gave me a reassuring smile. I smiled back.

"Or are you just happy to see me and your little girlfriend?" Moriarty asked as Sherlock aimed the gun at Moriarty.

"Jim Moriarty. Hi!" He exclaimed.

"Jim? Jim from the hospital?" Moriarty mimicked.

"Oh. Did I really make such a fleeting impression? But then, I suppose, that _was_ rather the point" He explained. I looked around and saw about a dozen men armed with rifles above us. And one was pointed at me. I glanced at John and saw he had a red dot on his chest too. Moriarty pushed me a bit further, the red dot never leaving my chest. Sherlock's eyes wandered from me and John but the gun stayed aimed at Moriarty.

"Don't be silly. Someone else is holding the rifle. I don't like getting my hands dirty" Moriarty explained.

"I've given you a glimpse, Sherlock, just a teensy glimpse of what I've got going on out there in the big bad world. I'm a specialist, you see ..." Moriarty said. I could see the gears working in Sherlock's mind, figuring out what that sentence meant.

"Like you!" Moriarty added, clearing things up.

""Dear Jim. Please will you fix it for me to get rid of my lover's nasty sister?" Sherlock said.

" "Dear Jim. Please will you fix it for me to disappear to South America?" He added as Moriarty pushed me forwards.

"Just so" Moriarty commented.

"Consulting Criminal" Sherlock said.

"Brilliant" He added.

"Isn't it? No-one ever gets to me – and no-one ever will" Moriarty said sternly.

"_I_ did" Sherlock retorted.

"You've come the closest. Now you're in my way" Moriarty warned.

"Thank you" Sherlock said, with that half smirk of his.

"Didn't mean it as a compliment" Moriarty said. I looked at John, hoping he would see for a way out of this.

"Yes, you did" Sherlock said.

"Yeah, okay, I did. But the flirting's over, Sherlock" Moriarty said with a shrug and a smirk.

"Daddy's had enough now!" He sang in high-pitched tone.

"I've shown you what I can do. I cut loose all those people, all those little problems, even thirty million quid just to get you to come out and play" Moriarty explained. Sherlock's eyes wandered over to me for a moment.

"So take this as a friendly warning, my dear. Back off" Moriarty said. I could almost hear sincerity in his voice. As if it would be a shame to kill such a brilliant mind as Sherlock's.

"Although I have _loved_ this – this little game of ours" Moriarty said, switching to a London accent, 'Playing Jim from I.T' He said, switching back to his Irish accent, 'Playing gay. Did you like the little touch with the underwear?" Moriarty explained. So that's what he was doing when he wasn't torturing me! He was fawning over Sherlock!

"People have died" Sherlock said.

"That's what people DO!" Moriarty yelled the last word, the echo resonating off the walls.

"I will stop you" Sherlock said quietly.

"No you won't" Moriarty sang.

"You alright?" Sherlock asked John.

"You can talk Johnny boy. Go ahead" Moriarty said. He sounded a bit sincere. John nodded in reply to Sherlock. Said detective turned to me.

"You can speak darling" Moriarty told me.

"Hi" I said but my voice was barely audible.

"Rachel, are you alright?" Sherlock asked. He stared at me for a few moments, probably deducing that I've been tortured over the past 5 days for nothing.

"I'm fine" I replied. Sherlock nodded and winked at me. I smiled and a small blushed tinged my cheeks. Even when we're about to die, he _has_ to do that. Moriarty pushed me so I'm standing a few feet away from John. He strolled past us and walked up to Sherlock.

Sherlock reached into his pocket and took out what looked like a memory stick. He handed it over to Moriarty who could the drive and threw it into the water.

John quickly wraps his arms around Moriarty and has him in a headlock in a few seconds.

"Sherlock, Rachel, run!" John said as he held Moriarty back. He chuckled and seemed completely unaffected by the headlock.

"Good! Very good!" Moriarty commented. I glanced around the room, watching for anymore hidden snipers, not listening to their conversation anymore. When I looked back, there was a red spot on Sherlock's forehead and John had let go of Moriarty. I kept my eyes on the snipers for another couple of minutes before I'm snapped back to the conversation when I felt two hands on my forearms.

"Well, I'd better be off" Moriarty said, his grip on me firm. Sherlock raised the gun a bit higher.

"What if I were to shoot you?-Now?" Sherlock asked.

"Then you could cherish the look of surprise on my face" Moriarty explained as he mimicked a look of surprise.

"'Cause I'd be surprised, Sherlock, I really would" Moriarty said.

"And just a teensy bit disappointed. And of course you wouldn't be able to cherish it for very long" Moriarty added.

"Goodbye Sherlock" Moriarty said.

"Have fun with your girlfriend" He added as he pushed me full force towards Sherlock. The feeling was like tripping over your own feet each time you take another step.

Sherlock caught me in his arms and I quickly wrapped my arms around his torso.

"Rachel, it's alright" He whispered. He let me go and quickly took the bomb vest off of John. I watched as he sank to the ground breathing heavily.

"Oh god" John said quietly as he rubbed his temples. Being strapped to a bomb must have given him a headache. Before the tears of being separated from the world for 5 days could fall, I wrapped my arms around Sherlock. In all honesty, I would've expected him to push me away. What I didn't expect was to be hugged tighter. And I didn't expect at all the small kiss Sherlock planted on my temple. I heard John sigh and I looked at him. There, on his chest, was once more, the red spot. Great were still getting shot. I looked up at Sherlock. He as well had the red spot on his forehead. I felt his hold around me tighten.

"Sorry everyone. I'm soooooo changeable!" Moriarty exclaimed as he came back into the room.

"It is a weakness with me but, to be fair to myself, it is my _only_ weakness" Moriarty explained as he stuffed his hands in his pockets. I moved a foot away from Sherlock as he raised his gun once more.

"You can't be allowed to continue. You just can't. I _would_ try to convince you but ..." He began as his laughter cut him off.

"Everything I have to say has already crossed your mind!" Moriarty sang. Sherlock glanced at me and John.

"Probably my answer has crossed yours" Sherlock said. Suddenly, I understood what he meant. Sherlock kept looking at me and John. I nodded and glanced at John. He nodded as well. Moriarty smiled in that creepy way of his.

Slowly, Sherlock lowered the gun to the bomb vest laying a few feet away from us. I felt someone take my hand and glanced down. Sherlock was holding my hand. Well, it's a good way to die... I guess.

**It took me about 2 hours to write this! With well deserved breaks of course! I hope you liked and I really do hate cliff hangers but this just had to be done! Review!**


	14. Chapter 14

**Diving into A Scandal in Belgravia now! There's going to be some jealous Rachel as well as Sherlock! Enjoy :)**

I held my breath as Sherlock lowered the gun to the bomb vest. I really didn't expect being blown to bits while holding Sherlock's hand. Oh well, first time for everything.

Moriarty smiled at us and Sherlock cocked the gun-

_Ah ah ah ah Stayin' alive, Stayin' alive!  
_What? Who forgot to turn off their phone!? Moriarty sighed and fished his phone out of his pocket.

"Do you mind if I get that?" He asked politely, as if we weren't about to be killed.

"No no, please. You've got the rest of your life" Sherlock replied nonchalantly, gun still aimed at the vest. I looked at John who mirrored my expression: confusion.

"Hello? ... Yes, of _course_ it is. What do you want?" Moriarty asked into the phone.

"_Sorry_" He mouthed to us. I was about to facepalm but Sherlock cut me off.

"Oh it's fine" he replied sarcastically. I narrowed my eyes as I watched Moriarty listening with disinterest to whoever was talking to me.

"SAY THAT AGAIN!" I flinched as he bellowed into the phone.

"Say that again, and know that if you're lying to me, I will find you and I will skin you" Moriarty said venomously into the phone. Sherlock glanced at John and I before readjusting his grip on the gun.

"Wait" Moriarty said into the phone. Maybe he's having second thoughts about killing us? He lowered the phone and approached us once more.

"Sorry. Wrong day to die" He said sadly, as if it brought him to tears that he can't kill us.

"Oh. Did you get a better offer?" I asked him, trying to sound more casual then scared.

"You'll be hearing from me Sherlock" Moriarty said, turning around and walking towards the door. He opened the door but turned around and looked me in the eye.

"Goodbye darling" He said with a sickening smile before strolling out. I heard John let out a relieved breath as the red spots on us disappeared, meaning we wouldn't have bullet holes in our hearts at the end of the day.

"What happened there?" I asked Sherlock.

"Someone's change his mind" He explained.

"But the question is: Who?" He added, probably thinking already. Subconsciously, my hand traced the outline of the brand new scar I've gotten from Moriarty at the pool. Next time I see that man, I will strangle him.

"Show me" Sherlock said, his deep voice breaking the silence.

"What?" I asked, clearly confused. Sherlock sighed and took my arm, lifting my shirt sleeve and examining my bruising.

"He did this?" Sherlock asked quietly.

"Yes" I replied with more confidence then I really had. Sherlock let go of my arm and pocketed the gun.

"Right. Shall we go now?" John asked. I nodded and followed Sherlock and John out of the pool. What did Sherlock deduce about the scarring on my arm? I believe he's found out a lot about it, considering it's something important that Moriarty had carved into my skin with a knife.

There on my arm, bloody and barely readable, were 8 letters:

K

I drank my tea as John typed away on his blog. He's been typing for a long time now and I was getting curious.

"What are you typing?" I asked from my seat on the couch.

"Blog" he replied simply.

"About?" Sherlock asked as he began leafing through a newspaper. He was wearing a red dressing gown today over a white button down and his black trousers. What is it with him the those dressing gowns?

"Us" John stated.

"You mean me" Sherlock corrected.

"Shut up Sherlock" I said as John chuckled. I ignored the glare that came from the detective and continued sipping my tea.

"Why?" John asked.

"Your typing a lot" Sherlock said. Well I knew John was tying about _something_! The doorbell rang and I glanced at the door. Client.

"Right then. What have we got?" Sherlock said as he took off his robe and tossed it into his armchair. I laughed as he ran down the stairs to the front door.

I buried my head in my hands. Sherlock has asked to take notes on his new cases while I didn't have any reports to write. I glanced down everything I've jotted down so far and I knew Sherlock was standing behind me, reading everything I wrote.

-_Stolen possessions after the death of a relative_

_-Paranoia about questions on a death_

_-Stalking_

And the list goes on with all sorts of boring cases. And that is coming from me not Sherlock. I looked up from my notepad at the man who sat in a chair in the middle of the living room. I sat in Sherlock's armchair (after many arguments) and John sat in his own. Sherlock kept pacing back and forth behind me, barely listening to what the man said.

"My wife seems to be spending a lot of time at the office" The man summed up. I bit my lip to stifle my laughter. This man wants us to find out why his wife is at the office? Before I opened my mouth and explained that she's having an affair, Sherlock kicked my chair.

"Boring" Sherlock declared.

I glared at Sherlock after he almost brought the woman before us to tears. She sniffled and looked up at us.

"I think my husband may be having an affair" She said as calmly as she good.

"Yes" Sherlock replied flatly. As he walked past his armchair, which I comfortably sat in, I kicked his shin. He almost tripped and glared at me. I returned him a smile. He can't just go around telling people their partners are having affairs! He's a bloody idiot and I'll tell him off for that.

I hid my smile with my hand as I was about to start laughing. John was biting and lip and staring at the floor, refusing to keep eye contact with the creepy man before us. Sherlock, of course, seemed completely unfazed by the funeral urn in the man's hand.

"She's not my real aunt. She's been replaced – I _know_ she has. I _know_ human ash" The man cried. I can't take this anymore, this man is just crazy (No I'm not talking about Sherlock.

"Get out" I said as I pointed towards the door. After the door closed, the three of us burst into laughter.

I didn't even bother listening to the business man and his 2 bodyguards. I sat in the kitchen, sipping tea as Sherlock declared the case boring. I never did understand how Sherlock could say if a case is boring or not without looking into the details. The doorbell ran once more and John went to get it this time.

"When are you actually going to accept a case?" I asked Sherlock as I came in the living room and sat down in his arm chair.

"When it's not boring" He replied with a smirk as John came into the living room, following by 3 teenage boys. One of the boy sat down in the chair while the other 2 stood at his sides.

"We have this website. It explains the true meaning of comic books, 'cause people miss a lot of the themes" The boy in the chair explained. Sherlock shook his head in disinterest and headed towards the kitchen.

"But then all the comic books started coming true" The boy quickly added. I watched with surprise as Sherlock walked back slowly and narrowed his eyes. This should be fun, he's accepted a case!

I sat on the couch as John typed away on his blog about the new case. Sherlock quickly came up behind him and leaned over shoulder, reading what it said on the screen.

"The Geek Interpreter? What's that?' Sherlock asked as he straightened up.

"It's a title" John explained.

"No John, you should have called it 'Rachel and the Geeks'" I said, remembering the moment the boys came into the room and stared at me like love-struck idiots. John chuckled and shook his head.

"What does it need a title for?" Sherlock asked as he glanced at me for a moment. John smiled but didn't reply.

I sat at my laptop, typing away about the case Lestrade had told me Sherlock figured out. Something about a blond woman with red specks all over her body. I heard shouting above me but I ignored it. If Sherlock broke something John can definitely figure it out without me.

After the report about the blond woman was done, I quickly shut my laptop and headed upstairs for the real details on the cases. Not bothering to knock on the wide open door, I found Sherlock actually eating breakfast in the kitchen and John typing away on his blog, again.

"Sherlock, are you eating?" I asked in disbelief. Sherlock glared at me while John chuckled. Well this is certainly new. I walked over to Sherlock and took a piece of toast from his plate.

"John, if you wanted me to eat, tell her not to steal my food" Sherlock said.

"Sherlock, I only want you to eat so you don't die from starvation" John explained without looking up from his laptop. I took a bite out of the toast as Sherlock stood up and walked over to John. He leaned over his shoulder and looking at the screen.

"Oh, for God's sakes!" Sherlock exclaimed.

"What?" John asked, a bit of alarm in his voice.

"'The Speckled Blond!?" Sherlock asked. I laughed quietly and ignored Sherlock's glare as he walked back to the kitchen. John has a gift for titles. I finished the toast and headed down the stairs when the doorbell rang.

Stopping in front of the door, I cautiously pulled the knob. Two small, fiery haired girls stood at the doorstep.

"Can we see Mr. Holmes?" The smallest asked. I smiled and nodded. Well, they are quite adorable, I hope Sherlock doesn't bring them to tears. They followed me up the stairs and into the living room. John smiled kindly at the 2 little girls while Sherlock sighed annoyingly.

I kept my eye on Sherlock in case he was about to scare the little girls while I listened to their story.

"They wouldn't let us see Granddad when he was dead. Is that 'cause he'd gone to heaven?" The little girl asked.

"People don't really go to heaven when they die. They're taken to a special room and burned" Sherlock explained. John sighed and rubbed his temples from an upcoming headache. I kept calm until the little girls left, almost crying. I stood up and walking over to Sherlock.

"Sherlock" I said, my disappointed swimming in the name.

"What do you want Rachel?" He asked, somewhat annoyed. That's when I noticed something. He's been acting strange since he came back from the case Lestrade had offered him yesterday.

"It's about that case isn't it?" I inquired, crossing my arms.

"What case?" He asked, narrowing his eyes.

"The case that you weren't able to solve. Yes I know about it, Lestrade had me write a report about it" I explained the a smirk.

"Is there a point to this?" Sherlock asked, moving over to his violin and plucking the strings.

"Yes there is. You can't talk to little children like you do to everyone else" I said sternly.

"And why are children an except to the way I speak with everyone else?" Sherlock asked as he let go of his violin and stepped closer to me. I shifted my weight and avoided looking into his eyes. I knew I would break if I looked into his eyes. He probably knew that too.

"So your saying that when you have children, your going to talk to them like you talk to Anderson?" I said with a smirk. Sherlock's eyes widened and he stepped back.

"Did I really just render Sherlock Holmes speechless by talking about the prospect of family?" I asked teasingly. Sherlock turned on his heel and walked out of the room. I winced as I heard the front door slam. He must be really angry if he didn't take his coat or even his blazer before leaving.

"Yeah I should fix this" I said to John who has been watching us with an amused expression the whole time.

"Yes, you really should" John agreed as he sipped his tea. I sighed and quickly ran down the stairs. I bolted through the door and looked around the busy street for any sign of a freakishly tall man with curly hair. I was about to go right when I bumped into someone.

"I'm really sorry" they said. I looked at who I bumped into quickly. It was a tall man, almost as tall as Sherlock. He was wearing a brown stripped suit with red converse. He had crazy hair that actually looked quite nice.

"It's alright, I wasn't looking where I was going" I said as I gathered my bearings.

"I'm Rachel, by the way" I added as I stretched my hand out. The man smiled and shook my hand.

"Nice to meet you Rachel" He said before running off. I looked back at his disappearing form. Before turning on my heel, I noticed a curly head turn the left corner of the street. Turning left, I ran the same way the man I encountered has. He was quite strange, especially with his red converse and crazy hair.

**So just like in the beginning of A Scandal in Belgravia, I added the small cases they had. And can anyone guess who it was that Rachel met before running after Sherlock? I might actually be adding more of that man but he won't look the same... (I also wonder if you noticed my reference to the episode of Doctor Who 'Left', as in if Rachel turned right, she wouldn't have found Sherlock but she turned left!) Review!**


	15. Chapter 15

**I am so sorry I haven't updated the story! I had a soccer tournament all weekend and I wasn't home yesterday all day so I truly am sorry! Also I've got a big case of writer's block so don't feel like I've abandoned the story if I'm not updating because I'm far from finishing this fanfic! I hope you guys enjoy this chapter :)**

I ran after Sherlock, trying to keep him in sight and not bump into people at the same time. He walked surprising fast, as if he knew I was chasing him. He probably did.

Picking up my pace, I was a few yards away from him when he ducked out of sight. Where could he have gone? I stood in the middle of the street, looking around as if I'd just lost my mum at the shopping mall. Stuffing my hands in my coat pockets, I walked down the street, hoping I'll find Sherlock or a nice cafe where I can warm up from the cold London weather.

I noticed a Starbucks cafe down the street, next to a park and decided to get some coffee before continuing my pursuit for Sherlock. Sherlock could have gone to St-Barts... but he left his wallet on the kitchen table so he couldn't have gotten a cab. Bart's is the only place Sherlock could go to when he wants to be alone. Or pick the lock into my flat and stay there while hiding from John. Yes, I noticed that my newspaper was on the kitchen counter instead of the coffee table when I came home from work the other day.

Opening the door to the cafe, the warmth hit me straight away. That wasn't the only thing that hit me, either. I mumbled my apologies to whomever I had bumped into, again. Today was just not my day.

"It's alright miss" said a kind, male voice. I looked up from dusting off my jacket to the stranger I've bumped into. He was good looking, almost as good looking as Sherlock. He had warm brown eyes and a bit of a goatee. His dark hair was styled upwards. He was wearing a pea coat with a grey scarf and dark skinny jeans with boots. Okay, he's got a sense of fashion too. I should introduce him to John, maybe then he'll stop wearing jumpers all the time.

"I'm Jack" He said, stretching out his hand and smiling.

"I'm Rachel" I said, shaking his warm hand. I noticed that he was about an inch taller then me.

"Would you like me to buy you a coffee, Rachel?" He asked after I stepped into the cafe. A blush danced it's way to my cheeks. Well he's good looking and he's interested in me, how can I refuse?

After getting coffee, Jack and I headed outside, towards the park. I wrapped my fingers around the scolding cup, trying to keep them warm. We talked quite a lot as we walked in the park. Apparently, Jack was an artist. There was an art show displaying his paintings in a week from now and he wanted me to come. Jack mentioned I could bring a friend, if I wanted to. I thought about asking Sherlock. Does he even appreciate art? A man of classic nature like him _must_ appreciate something like art, right? I'll talk to him about that, if I ever find him, of course.

"So what do you do?" Jack asked.

"I'm an investigative journalist for Scotland Yard" I said. He nodded and said something about having dated another journalist.

"We should do this another time" Jack said as we stopped walking.

"Yeah, I think that would be great" I said with a smile. We exchanged phone numbers and he left. I smiled and continued walking as I took a sip of my drink.

"Hello" said a baritone voice as I nearly choked.

"Sherlock, have you been following me?" I asked as I remembered feeling someone was watching me.

"I see that by chasing after me, you've gotten a date" He stated, ignoring my question. I shook my head and threw away the coffee.

"I see you've been eavesdropping too" I said as I began walking, Sherlock following me.

"Listen Sherlock, I'm sorry for whatever I said that made you storm off dramatically" I said as I stopped walking and faced him. He had his hands in his pockets and was shivering a bit from the cold. Stupid git, he should have took his jacket at least.

"Let's head back before you freeze to death" I said. Sherlock nodded and we walked back.

"Sherlock, what was it I said that affected you so deeply?" I inquired as we walked out of the park.

"Nothing. It was nothing" He said, avoiding my gaze.

"If you say it's nothing then why aren't you looking me in the eye?" I asked.

"Why do you always ask questions?" He asked as he looking at me, eyes narrowed and deducing.

"Because I'm curious" I said a-matter-of-fact-ly. Sherlock chuckled continued walking. Okay so he won't answer my question. Sherlock is Mr. Punchline, he replies to everything! Something must be wrong then.

"I'll find out sooner or later why your cross with me" I stated.

"I'm not cross" He said.

"Then why won't you answer?" I inquired as we turned to Baker Street.

"It's nothing of importance" Sherlock muttered.

"Oh and Sherlock" I said as he opened the front door.

"Hmm?" He hummed.

"Stop picking the lock to my flat" I said before striding past him and into the warmth of the building. I heard him chuckled before closing the door to my flat. I heard some shouting upstairs before the sound of a melodic violin filled the building. Things must be back to normal.

**I'm sorry if it's a bit short! I'll try to update as soon as possible. Review :D**


	16. Chapter 16

**I'm so sorry for the hold up on the update! The power in my house went out for 3 days due to a storm. Thanks to that same storm, a tree fell on the electricity cords near my house so we had to wait about a week until we got Internet. Even worse, my laptop battery died the first day when we had no power so I couldn't write anything to update right away when I got internet again. But now everything is ok (I hope) and I'll be updating as many times as I can! Enjoy :)**

****"Where's Sherlock?"

"He's asleep"

My eyes widened as soon as I heard the words come out of my mouth. Sherlock is sleeping? The insane sociopath never sleeps! I quickly glanced over my shoulder at his closed bedroom door. It was eerily quiet in the flat with John out on the case Sherlock had told him to investigate. John gave me an important job too!

I have to babysit Sherlock and make sure he doesn't tear the flat down.

"He's actually sleeping?" John asked. Sherlock had told me he didn't need to go down and investigate himself when he could send John and just video chat. Then he went to sleep. That was 3 hours ago and John just arrived at the crime scene with his laptop.

"It's almost too quiet" I pointed out.

"Maybe he's dead" John said. I watched as he showed me the view of the lake from his end of the video chat.

"Sorry to ruin your hopes John, I'm not dead" said a deep voice.

"Good morning sleep beauty" I said teasingly as Sherlock yawned and grabbed a cup of coffee.

"Oh good, your awake" John said.

"You realize this is a tiny bit humiliating?" John asked he noticed what Sherlock was wearing. Or rather not wearing. The bloody idiot was wrapped in a bed sheet that didn't cover much except lower regions.

"Rachel, you don't mind that he's practically naked?" John asked me.

"Of course I mind. But it wouldn't make much of a difference to Sherlock would it" I said as Sherlock took the laptop and carried it to the living room.

"Now, show me to the stream" He told John. I quickly jumped off my seat in the kitchen and watched John show a bit of blood in the water.

"Look, this is a 6" Sherlock declared. He had this policy that anything under a 7 is not interesting for his massive intellect.

"There's no point in my leaving the flat for anything less than a seven. We agreed. Now, go back. Show me the grass" Sherlock ordered. I watched over his shoulder as John lowered the camera to the ground.

"When did we agree that?" John asked.

"We agreed it yesterday" Sherlock said.

"Stop moving the camera John" Sherlock ordered. The camera went still and Sherlock leaned closer to the computer screen.

"John was in Dublin yesterday" I reminded Sherlock. That explains why he was talking to himself about some agreement last night!

"Well, it's hardly _my_ fault you weren't listening" Sherlock protested in that arrogant way of his.

"Sherlock, how did you not notice that John was away?" I asked. Sherlock could see every little detail but he didn't notice the presence of his best friend was else where then 221B.

"D'you just carry on talking when I'm away?" John asked.

"I don't know. How often are you away?" Sherlock asked. He sounded just like a confused child. I bit my lip to keep myself from smiling.

"Where is the car that back fired?" I asked, recalling John's explanation about what had happened to the hiker before Sherlock woke up.

"It's there" John said, turning the camera to a car near the road.

"That's the one that made the noise, yes?" Sherlock asked.

"Yeah. And if you're thinking gunshot, there wasn't one. He wasn't shot; he was killed by a single blow to the back of the head from a blunt instrument which then magically disappeared along with the killer. That's gotta be an eight at least" John explained, turning the camera to show his kind face.

"You've got two more minutes, then I want to know more about the driver" said a Detective Inspector, walking next to John.

"Hello Detective Carter" I said before Sherlock can give his arrogant retort.

"You know him?" John asked.

"John, I'm an investigative journalist, I know all the senior officers" I said.

"Oh, forget the driver. He's an idiot. Why else would he think himself a suspect?" Sherlock suddenly interrupted.

"_I_ think he's a suspect" Carter said, catching up to John and glaring into the camera.

"Pass me over" Sherlock ordered.

"Sherlock, there is a mute button, remember and John has no mercy" I warned. Sherlock scoffed and leaned closer to the laptop as John gave his own to Carter. The doorbell rang before Sherlock could commence his deductions.

"I'll get that" I said as I quickly went downstairs to open the front door.

"Is Sherlock Holmes here?" Asked a tall man in an expensive suit asked.

"Uh yeah, come in" I said as I let the 2 well dressed and frankly intimidating men into the flat.

"His room's through the back. Get him some clothes" one of the men said, pointing towards Sherlock's bedroom. Hold on, how did they know his bedroom was there... These must be Mycroft's men.

"Rachel, didn't your mother teach you _not_ to open the door to strangers?" Sherlock asked as one of the men closed the laptop, ignoring John's protests.

"She did but then she died so I must have forgotten" I replied, blocking all thoughts of my mum's death. Sherlock glanced at me and raised an eyebrow.

"Mr. Holmes, Miss Levine. You're coming with us" The man said. His intimidating friend returned from Sherlock's bedroom with the detective clothes. He placed the pile of clothes on the desk, in front of Sherlock who merely looked away distastefully.

"Please Mr. Holmes, where you're going, you'll want to be dressed" The man said. Sherlock gave them both 'the look', which meant he was deducing every inch of their lives. Sherlock gave them a smug smile.

"Oh, I know _exactly_ where I'm going" he said. If Mycroft's men don't kill Sherlock for being a stubborn idiot, we'd never hear the end of it from Mycroft himself.

"The least you could have done is got dressed" I said as I glanced around the hall. I always dreamed of coming to the Buckingham Palace. I just didn't expect to be called over for a secret interview with Sherlock's brother while Sherlock was wearing nothing but a bed sheet. Just another normal day out of Baker Street. John came into the room and looked at me, then Sherlock (John's eyes didn't linger on Sherlock's face for a long while. Then he wondered why people assumed he was gay)

John walked over to us and sat on my right as Sherlock was on my left. He glanced at the bed sheet, tightly wrapped around Sherlock. There was a sort of awkward silence in the air.

"Are you wearing any pants?" John asked, breaking the silence.

"No" Sherlock replied casually. He could have at least wore _something_ underneath that sheet.

"Okay" John said awkwardly. I glanced at Sherlock and John before the three of us burst out laughing.

"At the Buckingham Palace, fine" John managed to say.

"I'm seriously fighting the impulse to steal an ashtray" I said as our laughing died down.

"What are we doing here Seriously, what?" John asked.

"Please don't tell me you two burned down a national monument while I was gone" John said.

"You didn't kill anyone did you?" He asked before we managed to reply.

"You did-" John began but Sherlock cut him off.

"I don't know why were here" He said.

"Here to see the Queen?" I asked

"Oh, apparently yes" Sherlock replied as Mycroft walked into the room. The three of us began laughing once more while Mycroft glared at us.

"Just once, can you three behave like grown-ups?" Mycroft asked.

"We solve crimes, I blog about it, she keeps us sane and he forgets his pants, so I wouldn't hold out too much hope" John replied. Considering what John told me about Sherlock when I moved in, I probably do keep them sane.

"I was in the middle of a case, Mycroft" Sherlock said coldly, all humor gone from his face.

"What, the hiker and the backfire? I glanced at the police report. Bit obvious, surely?" Mycroft asked.

"Transparent" Sherlock said flatly. John and I stared at him wide eyed. Had he already figured it out?

"Time to move on, then" Mycroft stated, picking up Sherlock's clothes from the golden coffee table in front of us and offering them to Sherlock.

"We are in Buckingham Palace, the very heart of the British nation' Mycroft said,'Sherlock Holmes put your trousers on!" He exclaimed sternly, more like a motherly type of scold.

"What for?" Sherlock asked. Did he really just ask why he should put his clothes on?

"Your client" Mycroft said smugly.

"And my client is..." Sherlock began, standing up.

"Illustrious in the extreme" a man said, walking into the room. He was wearing an expensive suit with slicked back sandy hair. John and I stood up respectfully as Sherlock glared at his brother before turning his attention to the new comer.

" And remaining – I have to inform you – entirely anonymous" He added.

"Mycroft!" The man exclaimed.

"Harry" Mycroft said, a bit distastefully, shaking Harry's hand.

" May I just apologize for the state of my little brother" Mycroft said as Sherlock adjusted the sheet around him.

"Full time occupation, I assume" Harry said, what _I_ assumed was to be a joke. Sherlock scowled and looked away.

"And this must be Doctor John Watson, formerly of the Fifth Northumberland Fusiliers" Harry said, addressing John.

"Hello, yes" John said, shaking his hand.

"Miss Rachel Levine, I am a big fan of your articles about Sherlock's cases as well as many others in the newspapers" Harry told me. I smiled and shook his hand. So, the creepy guy who kidnapped me and a half-naked Sherlock is offering compliments.

"My employer is a tremendous fan of your blog" Harry told John.

"Your employer?" John asked, giving Sherlock a the-queen-reads-my-blog look.

"Particularly enjoyed the one about the aluminium crutch" He added. John smiled and gave Sherlock another look that I couldn't decipher.

"And Mr. Holmes the younger. You look taller in your photographs" Harry pointed out. I bit my lip to keep myself from laughing.

"Take the precaution of a good coat and short friends" Sherlock said. I nudged Sherlock in the ribs and he winced. John regarded us with amusement. Sherlock strode past us, about to leave but he turned around.

"Mycroft, I don't do anonymous clients. I'm used to mystery at _one_ end of my cases. Both ends is too much work" He said.

"Good morning" Sherlock added, nodding to Harry and turned on his heel. Sherlock walked away, the edge of his sheet trailing behind him. Mycroft took that advantage and stepped on the sheet.

Well I could see I averted my eyes and didn't look at Sherlock's bum like a normal person. But living with Sherlock and John, I can't say that.

"This is a matter of national importance. Grow up" Mycroft spat, as Sherlock caught the falling sheet before he was left naked.

"Get off my sheet!" Sherlock said through gritted teeth, his bare back to us.

"Or what?" Mycroft asked.

"Or I'll just walk away" Sherlock replied. At that moment, I felt John and Mycroft's eyes on me, as well as Harry's. Of course, me being the only woman in the room they thought Sherlock's nakedness would cause me some discomfort. Well it would but I wouldn't care.

"I'll let you" Mycroft said, turning his attention to his half-naked little brother.

"Boys, please. Not here" John ordered, bringing out his fatherly tone.

"Who. Is. My. _Client_?" Sherlock asked. I could practically see the steam bellowing from his ears as the rage seeped through his words.

"Take a look at where you're standing and make a deduction. You are to be engaged by the highest in the land. Now _for God's sake ..._" Mycroft began, controlling his anger.

"_Put your clothes on!_" He nearly yelled. I heard Sherlock's sharp intake of breath, probably controlling his own anger.

I sipped my tea as Sherlock walked back into the room, thankfully dressed. Not thankfully, he came in only buttoning the upper half of his shirt. I've made my own little conclusion: I've seen many sides of a naked Sherlock today.

"I'll be mother" Mycroft said, which I assume was a joke, that really didn't go well with his icy demeanor, as he poured Sherlock some tea. Sherlock, John and I sat on the couch we had occupied when we were brought here as Mycroft and Harry sat on the couch across.

"And there is a whole childhood in a nutshell" Sherlock commented pointedly, as he finished buttoning his shirt. Mycroft glared at him as he put the teapot down.

"My employer has a problem" Harry said.

"A matter has come to light of an extremely delicate and potentially criminal nature, and in this hour of need, dear brother, your name has arisen" Mycroft explained.

"Why? You have a police force of sorts, even a marginally Secret Service. Why come to me?" Sherlock asked.

"People do come to you for help, don't they, Mr. Holmes?" Harry asked.

"Not, to date, anyone with a Navy" Sherlock replied, sipping his tea.

"This is a matter of the highest security, and therefore of trust" Mycroft said.

"You don't trust your own Secret Service?" I asked. Sherlock chuckled and put his tea back to its saucer.

"Naturally not. They all spy on people for money" Mycroft replied smugly.

"I do think we have a timetable" Harry reminded.

"Yes, of course. Um ..." Mycroft said as he pulled out a briefcase and opened it. He took out an envelope and handed it to his younger brother. Sherlock opened the envelope and I glanced at the pictures it held inside. They were all, unsettling, pictures of a woman.

"What do you know about this woman?" Mycroft asked.

"Nothing whatsoever" Sherlock replied, putting the pictures back in the envelope.

"Then you should be paying more attention" Mycroft said.

"She's been at the center of two political scandals in the last year, and recently ended the marriage of a prominent novelist by having an affair with both participants separately" Mycroft explained.

"She's been busy" I commented and John chuckled.

"You know I don't concern myself with trivia. Who is she?" Sherlock asked.

"Irene Adler, professionally known as The Woman" Mycroft explained.

"Professionally?" I asked. What a cliché name she picked for herself.

"There are many names for what she does. She prefers 'dominatrix'" Mycroft said. How wonderful, we're dealing with a potential and frankly mysterious prostitute.

"Dominatrix" Sherlock said. I could practically see the clogs and gears in his head working, deducing her just from her professional name.

"Don't be alarmed. It's to do with sex" Mycroft said, mostly to Sherlock.

"Sex doesn't alarm me" He protested.

"How would you know?" Mycroft asked, giving his younger brother a smug smile. I nearly choked on my tea as the two bickered. Who would have thought Sherlock was a virgin? Well it seems completely normal given his sociopathic nature but it was a little low for Mycroft to announce that to Sherlock's, probably, only friends and a client.

"She provides – shall we say – recreational scolding for those who enjoy that sort of thing and are prepared to pay for it" Mycroft said, handing Sherlock more photographs of Irene Adler. I didn't need to look to see what the pictures contained. How wonderful, we're dealing with a potential and frankly mysterious prostitute.

"And I assume this Adler woman has some compromising photographs" Sherlock deduced.

"Your very quick Mr. Holmes" Harry said.

"Hardly a difficult deduction. Photographs of whom?" Sherlock asked.

"A person of significance to my employer. We'd prefer not to say any more at this time" Harry said. Glaring at him angrily, Sherlock put the photographs on the table.

"You can't tell us anything?" I asked.

"I can tell you it's a young person" Mycroft said.

"A young female person" He added. Well obviously, all 8 pairs of eyes rested on me, just because I'm the youngest in the room and, well I assume, the only female.

"How many photographs?" Sherlock asked, turning his attention back to Mycroft.

"A considerable number, apparently" He replied.

"Do Miss Adler and this young female person appear in these photographs together?" Sherlock asked.

"Yes, they do" Mycroft said.

"And I assume in a number of compromising scenarios" Sherlock added.

"An imaginative range, we are assured" Mycroft said. I glanced at John, who was staring at Mycroft blankly, his tea cup half raised.

"John, you might want to put that cup back in your saucer now" I told him. He quickly put the cup down and focused on the task at hand.

"Can you help us, Mr. Holmes?" Harry asked.

"How?" Sherlock asked, almost disinterested.

"Will you take the case?" Harry asked.

"What case? Pay her, now and in full. As Miss Adler remarks in her masthead, "Know when you are beaten"" Sherlock said, reaching behind him for his coat.

"She doesn't want anything" Mycroft said as Sherlock turned back to him.

"She got in touch, she informed us that the photographs existed, she indicated that she had no intention to use them to extort either money or favor" Mycroft explained.

"Oh, a power play. A power play with the most powerful family in Britain. Now that _is _a dominatrix. Ooh, this is getting rather fun, isn't it?" Sherlock said, finally interested.

"Sherlock" I warned.

"Hmm" he said as he took his coat and stood up.

"Where is she?" He asked Mycroft.

"Uh, in London currently. She's staying ..." Mycroft began but Sherlock cut him off as he began walking away from the couch.

"Text me the details. I'll be in touch by the end of the day" Sherlock said. John and I stood up as well as Mycroft and Harry.

"Do you really think you'll have news by then?" Harry asked, clearly surprised.

"He'll probably have the photographs by then" I said sarcastically.

"I will" Sherlock said triumphantly.

"One can only hope you're as good as you seem to think" Harry pointed out. Sherlock narrowed his eyes and stared at him for a moment, already deducing.

"I'll need some equipment, of course" Sherlock said.

"Anything you require. I'll have it sent to ..." Mycroft began but Sherlock cut him off.

"Can I have a box of matches?" Sherlock asked. I glanced at him with a puzzled look.

"I'm sorry?" Harry asked.

"Or your cigarette lighter. Either will do" He said, holding out his hand. John had said Sherlock quit smoking...

"I don't smoke" Harry said.

"No, I know _you_ don't, but your employer does" Sherlock deduced.

"We have kept a lot of people successfully in the dark about this little fact, Mr. Holmes" Harry said, taking out a lighter and handing it over to Sherlock.

"I'm not the Commonwealth" He said, taking the lighter and putting it in his blazer pocket.

"And that's as modest as he gets. Pleasure to meet you" I quickly said.

"Laters!" He called with an Estuary English accent, not pronouncing the 't' and walking out. John and I quickly followed, giving our company an apologetic glance.

"Okay, the smoking. How did you know?" I asked as I glanced out of the cab window.

"The evidence was right under your nose, John. As ever, you see but do not observe" Sherlock stated.

"Observe what?" John asked.

"The ashtray" Sherlock simply said, pulling out the ashtray I had mentioned earlier. John laughed and I couldn't help but smile. Sherlock stole an ashtray from the Buckingham Palace. He tossed the ashtray into the air and caught it. Sherlock winked at me before putting the small ashtray back into his pocket.

"Your are unbelievable" I stated with a smile.

**I hope you guys like this long chapter! Yes I included some nude parts for Sherlock (though not completely nude) for some humor in the chapter. Review :D**


	17. Chapter 17

**I'm planning on writing a different Sherlock fic as I'm writing this one so check out my profile sometime this week for a new story if your interested! Enjoy :)**

I was never one to work with many distractions around me. Now, writing my report on the hiker case for Lestrade, Sherlock was _not_ helping with all the noise he was making.

"What the bloody hell are you doing in there?" I asked as more noise came from Sherlock's bedroom.

"You could always work in your flat, where it's quiet" John suggested.

"But it's boring and uneventful in my flat. Here, I get to annoy Sherlock" I said happily. An angry groan followed by more noise came from Sherlock's bedroom.

"Seriously what are you doing, Sherlock?" I asked again.

"Going into battle, I need the right armor!" He called from his bedroom. There was more noise, which sounded oddly like buttons hitting the wooden floor.

"I hope he's not going to wear an actual armor" John muttered, looking through the newspaper.

Until Sherlock can get anymore _detailed_ leads about the hiker case, unlike most of officers who give me the information to write about, I've got nothing to write about. Sighing, I shut my laptop and sat down next to John at the kitchen table.

"So we're going to meet Irene Adler now?" I asked, trying to make conversation.

"Yes we are" Sherlock said, coming into the room.

"Is that your so called battle armor?" I asked as he slipped into his blazer, which he lazily left laying on the couch. Sherlock gave me a cold glare and wrapped his scarf around his neck.

"Right. Let's go" John said, putting his own coat on. I followed suit and quickly exited the flat after Sherlock and John.

"So, what's the plan?" I asked as I glanced out the window of the cab. John had insisted I come with them to keep Sherlock out of trouble. Everyone seems to be counting on me to keep the idiot of trouble lately.

"We know her address" Sherlock simply said.

"What, just ring her doorbell?" John asked sarcastically. I think Sherlock actually planned on ringing her doorbell, just not like a normal person would. Probably with some crazy conspiracy involved.

"Exactly" Sherlock said.

"Just here, please" Sherlock told the cabbie.

"You didn't even change your clothes" I pointed out as I followed them out of the cab.

"Then it's time to add a splash of color" Sherlock said mysteriously.

"Where are we?" John asked as we walked for about 5 minutes until we reached a narrow street.

"Two streets away but this'll do" Sherlock said.

"For what?" I asked curiously. What could Sherlock have in mind?

"John, punch me in the face" Sherlock said seriously, gesturing to his left cheek. Not that I wanted to punch Sherlock, but he was being sexist, telling John to punch him and not me, who he probably thought was incapable of doing so.

"Punch you?" John asked, wondering what the hell Sherlock meant.

"Yes. Punch me, in the face" Sherlock said.

"Didn't you hear me?" He asked, slightly annoyed.

"We _always_ hear 'punch me in the face' when you're speaking, but it's usually sub-text" I told Sherlock with a smirk.

"Oh for God's sake" Sherlock said, clearly exasperated. He raised his fist which firmly connected with John's cheek. The blow echoed out on the quiet street. Sherlock exhaled deeply and regained his composure, as if getting ready for another strike.

"Sherlock, your an idiot" I said before John punched him, merely out of anger. I muffled my laughter with my hand as John cursed loudly. He turned away and flexed his hand painfully, examining his red knuckles. Sherlock touched his cut cheek and shook his head

"Thank you. That was – that was ..." He began to say began but John punched him in the gut, sending him to the ground with a yelp.

"John, I think that's en-" I began but John cut me off as he tackled Sherlock who was trying to get up. Sighing, I walked to the curb and sat down, watching them fight.

Boys will be boys.

"Okay! I think we're done now, John" Sherlock managed to say as John was trying to strangle him. John always had wanted to do that to Sherlock, I never imagined he'd actually try.

"You wanna remember, Sherlock: I was a soldier. I killed people" John said, almost savagely.

"John, you were a doctor" I pointed out calmly from my seat on the curb.

"I had bad days" He exclaimed. I watched wide-eyed as Sherlock managed to pry John's hand's away from his throat and pushing him away. John stood up angrily and punched Sherlock straight in the jaw before walking towards where I sat. He sat down next to me and watched as Sherlock blinked for a moment before collapsing on the ground.

"Our meeting with Irene Adler might be postponed for a few minutes" He said.

"Let's hope you didn't punch him that hard and he won't be unconscious any longer then a few minutes" I said, standing up and heading towards Sherlock unconscious form in the middle of the street.

"What are you doing?" John asked from the curb.

"Well, I don't want him to get run over by a car" I explained, taking Sherlock's arms and dragging him towards the side of the street. For someone so skinny, he was surprisingly heavy.

"What was the point of that little fight you just had?" I asked John as I examined the cut on Sherlock's cheek. It looked worse then the left side of his jaw, which was scarlet red from John's fist.

"I've been wanting to punch the smarmy git since the day I met him" John admitted.

"Yeah, I saw how badly you wanted to punch him" I said as I watched Sherlock groan.

"I think he's waking up" I said. Sherlock's eyes fluttered open and he shot up from the ground. His majestic moment lasted a few seconds before he groaned and clutched his side.

"You okay?" I asked him as he sat down next to me. He didn't answer, just took a couple of deep breaths, after shooting John a cold glare, of course.

"So what's the plan?" I asked, eagerly trying to lift the mood.

"I'll explain on the way, come on" He said hoarsely, standing up and heading down the street. John and I scrambled to our feet and quickly followed him.

"This brilliant plan of yours better work" I warned as the three of us stood at the corner of the street.

"It will, don't worry" John said. I glanced at Sherlock and watched as he was fidgeting with a white vicar's band.

"Need some help with that?" I asked as he kept fiddling with it. He looked up at me and nodded. Sherlock really did look like a helpless child right now. John kept glancing down the street to Irene Adler's house as I took the vicar's band from Sherlock. I lifted the collar of his shirt and placed the band, fixing the last button and setting the collar down.

"Right, let's go" John said.

I stood next to John as Sherlock walked up the steps to the large, white house. It always amazed me how well Sherlock could act.

"Ooh! Um, sorry to disturb you. Um, I've just been attacked, um, and, um, I think they ... they took my wallet and, um, and my phone. Umm, please could you help me?" Sherlock said in a high pitched tone into the intercom. He almost sounded... normal. I couldn't hear the reply but I'm guessing they agreed to help Sherlock.

"Thank you, thank you! Could you, please?" He said tearfully.

"Oh, would you ... would you mind if I just waited here, just until they come? Thank you. Thank you so much" He added, taking the handkerchief he took from me, holding it to his cut cheek and pretending to cry in to into it. I heard the buzzer and the door opened. Sherlock went in and I quickly followed John inside.

"We- we saw it all happen. It's okay, I'm a doctor and she's a...er... therapist" John quickly told the ginger woman who had let us in.

"Now, have you got a first aid kit?" John asked politely.

"In the kitchen" She said. She gestured for me and Sherlock into what looked like a big living room and John followed her to the kitchen.

Sherlock kept the handkerchief to his cheek while I stood, leaning against the wall.

"Your a great actor" I told him quietly. He took off his coat and set it on the couch.

"Thank you" He said, briefly glancing up at me and offering me a smile. I heard footsteps approaching, as did Sherlock, because he sat up straighter and pressed the piece of cloth to his cheek.

This should be fun.


	18. Chapter 18

**I'm going to try and write long chapters from now on. Enjoy :)**

"Hello. Sorry to hear that you've been hurt. I don't think Kate caught your name" said a woman's voice from the door.

"I'm so sorry. I'm ..." Sherlock began but his voice faltered as he glanced at the door. His eyes widen and his jaw drops a little. Who could have rendered Sherlock Holmes speechless.

"Oh you're here as well. Jim told me about you" the woman told me as she walked into the room. Now I understand why Sherlock was speechless. With the exception of high heeled shoes, the woman from Mycroft's photographs was stark naked. This really wasn't how I expected to meet Irene Adler.

"I'm going to go help John with that first aid kit" I quickly said as I turned on my heel and walked out of the room. Her nakedness was already starting to make me uncomfortable. Last I saw was Sherlock giving me a please-don't-leave-me-alone-with-her look while Irene Adler was straddling him.

I quickly found John trying to flirt with the ginger woman that had let us into the house.

"Hey, John, can I talk to you quickly? So stop flirting and come on" I said as I took his hand and dragged him to the empty hallway.

"What's wrong?" John asked, examining my face for any sign of emotion.

"Do you want me to elaborate or do you want to go and see for yourself" I said stiffly. I really didn't want to explain to John how the woman we were supposed to be interrogating was naked and trying to seduce Sherlock.

"Judging from your tone, I'll see for myself" He said, taking a step back from me and walking into the sitting room that I had just emerged from. I followed him into the room, all the while John kept his eyes on the bowl of water and napkin to avoid the contents of spilling. I almost walked into John if I hadn't noticed him stop dead in his tracks.

"I've missed something, haven't I?" John asked no one in particular as he looked from Irene Adler, to Sherlock. I sighed and leaned against the wall, just like I had before I hastily left the room.

"Please, sit down" Irene said as she sat down on a white armchair, thankfully covering herself by crossing her legs and arms. I glanced at Sherlock who was staring at all of us in confusion. What had she done to him? He's always got that calculated gaze but now he's just...confused.

"Oh, if you'd like some tea I can call the maid" She said. I watched with a narrowed gaze as Sherlock fidgeted uncomfortably on the couch.

"I had some at the Palace" Sherlock said, breaking the silence.

"I know" Irene replied, smiling at him. Still trying to seduce Sherlock Holmes then. Sherlock stared at Irene, probably deducing here. After a few moments, he had a sort of bewildered expression on him and turned away from her. His gaze locked on me for a few moments before turning back to Irene.

Dealing with awkward situations is fine with me, but this, this is just bizarre for the 3 of us.

"D'you know the big problem with a disguise, Mr. Holmes?" Irene asked. Sherlock quirked an eyebrow at her.

"However hard you try, it's always a self-portrait" She explained.

"You think I'm a vicar with a bleeding face?" Sherlock asked.

"No, I think you're damaged, delusional and believe in a higher power. In your case, it's yourself" She replied, leaning forwards and narrowing her eyes.

"Oh, and _somebody_ loves you. Why, if _I_ had to punch that face, I'd avoid your nose and teeth too" Irene said, glancing at me then Sherlock. Sherlock briefly looked at me as well. I felt my cheeks get warmer. Now I really wish I hadn't involved myself in this mess. It's bloody confusing and awkward.

"Oh, look at you two. Neither of you know it yet" Irene exclaimed. John glanced between Sherlock and I then to the napkin he was holding. What don't neither of us know? I better keep my mouth shut until we get home, then I can bombard Sherlock with questions about what the hell we was thinking, asking me to join him and John the first day we met. If he hadn't asked me to join them that day, I wouldn't be here.

"Could you put something on, please? Er, anything at all. A napkin" John proposed.

"Why? Are you feeling exposed?" Irene asked him.

"I don't think John knows where to look"Sherlock said as stood up. He kept his eyes on me as he turned away from Irene, holding out his coat for her.

"No, I think he knows _exactly_ where" Irene said, standing up as well and walking up to John. In a normal case, I would have laughed at John's poor attempt at looking at her face instead of her body.

"I'm not sure about _you_" Irene told Sherlock taking his coat from him and putting it on. Sherlock tore his gaze away from me and walked towards the fireplace.

"If I wanted to look at naked women I'd borrow John's laptop" Sherlock explained. This time, I couldn't help but laugh a bit.

"You _do_ borrow John's laptop" I pointed out. Sherlock always 'borrowed' my laptop, and my books, and my phone and yet, he never gives them back.

"I confiscate it" Sherlock protested.

"Well, never mind. We've got better things to talk about. Now tell me – I need to know" Irene began as she sat down on the sofa, now fully covered by Sherlock's long coat.

"How was it done?" She asked.

"What?" Sherlock asked, as he began slowly pacing the room.

"The hiker with the bashed-in head. How was he killed?" She explained.

"That's not why I'm here" Sherlock pointed out"

"No, no, no, you're here for the photographs but that's never gonna happen, and since we're here just chatting anyway..." She said.

"That story's not been on the news yet. How do you know about it?" I asked, knowing very well _I'm_ the one with authority to publish the article about the case in the newspaper.

"I know one of the policemen. Well, I know what he _likes_" Irene explained. Right, this is the prostitute part that Mycroft had warned us about.

"Oh. And you like policemen?" John asked, sitting down next to Irene.

"John, now is not the time for flirting. She's mostly likely a world class criminal. Are you a masochist?" I said lazily. Irene smiled at me as if she was flattered by being called a world class criminal. Sherlock chuckled and looked out the window.

"I like detective stories – _and_ detectives. Brainy's the new sexy" Irene explained, winking at Sherlock. I turned away, half in jealousy, half in disgust. Wait, why am I jealous? Sherlock, is just Sherlock, nothing special... Well he _is_ special, and brilliant, and quite handsome. What am I saying?

"Positionofthecar" Sherlock said incoherently. He shook his head and it almost seemed like he was pulling himself together. Had Irene Adler's seducing trick actually worked? Right, now I'm a tad jealous. John stared at Sherlock with a somewhat amused expression.

"Er, the position of the car relative to the hiker at the time of the backfire. That and the fact that the death blow was to the back of the head. That's all you need to know" Sherlock quickly said.

"Okay, tell me: how was he murdered?" Irene asked.

"He wasn't" Sherlock simply said.

"You don't think it was murder?" She asked.

"I _know_ it wasn't" Sherlock replied, holding his hands behind his back.

"How?" I suddenly asked.

"The same way that I know the victim was an excellent sportsman recently returned from foreign travel and that the photographs I'm looking for are in this room" Sherlock explained almost condescendingly. He kept his gaze focused on me, just like he had a few minutes ago when Irene was trying to seduce him again.

"Okay but how?" Irene asked, repeating my question.

"So they _are_ in this room. Thank you. John, man the door. Let no-one in" Sherlock ordered. John walked out of the room and I quickly realized that the plan Sherlock had formulated was happening now. Sherlock walked up to me and slipped the cigarette lighter into my hand. I quickly follow John out of the room, closing the door behind me.

"Ready?" John asked, picking up a magazine from a shelf and folding it. I gave him the lighter and stood back as he light the magazine.

"I'm taller, should I hold it up to the alarm?" I asked teasingly, taking the smoking magazine away from him. John gave me a sarcastic smile as I walked up the stairs to the alarm on the ceiling. Soon enough, the fire alarm went off.

"Right you put this out now" I told him. He began trying to put out the small fire but all it caused was more sparks.

"All right, you can turn it off now" Sherlock called from the sitting room.

"John seriously, it's just a few sparks" I told him.

"All right, John, you can turn it off now" Sherlock said loudly.

"Give me a minute" John exclaimed, beginning to get frustrated. I sighed as John tried to put out the flame in order to stop the alarm. At that moment, 4 men came down the stairs. The first one shot the alarm and everything became eerily quiet.

"Thank you" I said sarcastically as they approached us, holding their guns out. John and I raised our hands.

"Where is Sherlock Holmes?" the man who had shot the alarm asked. American. I didn't answer as he held his gun closer to me.

"In there" John said. I glanced at him and he had a somewhat defeated expression on his face. Did he do that so I wouldn't get shot? One of the men pressed his gun to the back of my head as he pushed John and I through the door.

"Hands behind your head. On the floor. Keep it still" He said. As soon as Sherlock noticed us with guns pressed to our heads, he had a look of alarm cross his face but it faded as soon as it appeared.

"Ms Adler, on the floor" The man ordered as he pushed John and I to our knees, guns pressed to our heads, barrels cocked.

"Don't you want me on the floor too?" Sherlock asked casually. He raised his hands as soon as the man who shot the alarm pointed his gun at him.

"No, sir, I want you to open the safe" He said.

"American. Interesting. Why would _you_ care?" Sherlock asked.

"Sir, the safe, _now_, please" The man ordered.

"I don't know the code" Sherlock protested.

"We've been listening. She said she told you" the man said.

"Well, if you'd been listening, you'd know she _didn't_" Sherlock said through gritted teeth.

"I'm assuming I missed something. From your reputation, I'm assuming you _didn't_, Mr. Holmes" The man spat.

"For God's sake. _She's_ the one who knows the code. Ask her" I exclaimed.

"Yes, miss. She also knows the code that automatically calls the police and sets off the burglar alarm. I've learned not to trust this woman" He explained.

"Mr. Holmes doesn't-" Irene began but the man cut her off.

"Shut up. One more word out of you – just one – and I will decorate that wall with the insides of your head. That, for me, will not be a hardship" He said.

"Mr. Archer. At the count of three, shoot Miss Levine" The man said. My eyes widened as the tip of the gun pressed closer to my head. How does he know my name? Wait, John has mentioned me on his blog... Damn it!  
"I don't have the code" Sherlock tried, nervously glancing at me.

"One"

"I don't know the code" Sherlock said emphatically.

"Two"

"She didn't tell me. I don't know it!" Sherlock said, raising his voice.

"I'm prepared to believe you any second now" The man warned. I glanced at Sherlock who gave me an assuring. I closed my eyes, wanting Sherlock to be the last thing I see if I die now. I took a deep breath and waited till I heard #3

"Three"

"No, stop!" Sherlock yelled. I felt the gun move away from my head about an inch. I opened my eyes and saw Sherlock punching in the code to a safe I had just noticed above the mantelpiece. The safe gave it's _beep_ of confirmation for the right code. I heard Sherlock's breath of relief.

"Thank you, Mr. Holmes. Open it, please" The man said. I watched as Sherlock slowly twisted the button that opens the safe. Sherlock hesitated for a moment. John nudged my foot and mouthed:

_Plan_

"Vatican Cameos!" Sherlock yelled.

Instantly, I throw myself on the floor as Sherlock ducks down in front of the fireplace. The bullet inside the safe embeds itself in the man who was supposed to shoot me. I kick John's guard in the groin he collapsed on the ground. John grabs the unconscious man's gun and tossed it to me as Sherlock hit the man across the face with a gun, knocking him out. The man I had kicked groaned and began to get up.

"D'you mind?" Sherlock asked, gesturing the only conscious american man in the room.

"Not at all" I said as I hit the man across the face with the gun, knocking him out.

"He's dead" John said, gesturing to the man who was about to shoot me.

"Thank you. You were very observant" Irene told Sherlock.

"Observant?" I asked, hoping for an explanation.

"I'm flattered" She added.

"Don't be" Sherlock said.

"Flattered?" John asked, hoping the same as me.

"There'll be more of them. They'll be keeping a eye on the building" Sherlock stated, walking out of the room. I quickly followed him as John began collecting the guns from the unconscious men.

"We should call the police" I proposed.

"Yes" he agreed as I followed him outside. Raising the gun to the air, he shot five times.

"On their way" He said, trotting back up the steps to where I stood.

"For God's sake-" I began but he cut me off.

"Oh shut up it's quick" He said. Sherlock was about to walk back into the house but I caught his arm. I quickly wrapped my arms around him in a hug. He stiffened at the touch. My eyes widened as I felt him hug me tighter.

"You thought I was going to let them kill you?" He asked me quietly.

"I trust you with my life Sherlock, I wouldn't think you'd do anything to harm me on purpose" I said. Sherlock looked me in the eyes and smiled. Not the half smirk smile that he usually does, but a genuine smile that I've never seen before. I noticed he also had dimples when he smiled.

"I promise I'll never let harm come your way, understand?" He said. I nodded and buried my face in the crook of his shoulder and his neck. Sherlock smelled oddly of an expensive cologne (though not too much, just the right amount) and a bit of tobacco that still lingered on his clothes from his smoking days.

"We should probably go help John" I pointed as we parted from our embrace. Sherlock nodded and I quickly followed him back into the house.

I ran up the stairs and found a wide open door. It led to a big room, with a balcony, to which the doors were open. That's how they got in. I took in a deep breath and glanced over the railing. Even 20 feet off the ground, I'm still scared of heights. There was a ladder pressed against the outside wall. They could have easily scaled the ladder and jumped over the railing, into the house.

"Sherlock!" I heard John call from downstairs. The alarm in his voice means something's happened. I ran out of the room and raced down the stairs.

I walk into the room to see Sherlock laying on the floorboards. Irene was walking away from him with a... is that a riding crop!?

"Oh god, Sherlock are you alright?" I quickly asked as I ran up to him. He groaned something incomprehensible. I noticed a small syringe next to his arm as he tried to sit up but failed to do so and ended up hitting his head on the floor.

"He'll sleep for a few hours. Make sure he doesn't choke on his own vomit. It makes for a very unattractive corpse" Irene explained from the bathroom. I carefully took the syringe and glanced at it.

"Jesus, what happened to him?" John asked from the door. Sherlock began groaning and he looked like he was slipping in and out of consciousness.

"She's given him something. I don't understand what's wrong" I said. I watched as Sherlock tried to get up and fell again. God he's as weak as a kitten. What are we going to do?

"What's this? What have you given him?" John asked, picking up the syringe.

"He'll be fine. I've used it on loads of my friends" Irene explained, sitting on the windowsill in the bathroom.

"Sherlock, can you hear me?" I asked. He groaned something incomprehensible. I ignored her and John's conversation as I hear the sound of police sirens. Sherlock's eyes lids began drooping and he stopped groaning and moving.

"He's unconscious" I stated. I brushed the curls from his eyes as I heard the sound of doors opening and closing downstairs.

"She's gone" John declared as he began pacing back and forth.

"What happened?" Asked a familiar voice from the door.

"Lestrade, thank god. She's given him something. We don't know. But he's unconscious-" I began rambling but then it all clicked. I stood up, taking the syringe from John and looked at it.

"Rachel? What is it?" Lestrade asked.

He'll be fine. I've used it on loads of my friends

Sleep syrup in the syringe. Paralyzes anyone before they fall asleep. That's Sherlock can't sit up straight without falling.

"Never mind. We've got to get him back to 221B" John said.

"Rachel, you mind helping me?" John asked as he managed to get Sherlock to his feet and draped his right arm over his shoulders. I nodded and pulled his left arm over my shoulders.

"He's a skinny git but he's bloody heavy" John said as we dragged him out of the room, Lestrade following us. Sherlock groaned quietly as his head lolled to the side and onto my shoulder.

"Lestrade, do you mind filming this? I want to see people's reactions when I put the video of a drugged Sherlock on my blog" John exclaimed happily as we dragged Sherlock outside. Lestrade chuckled and I heard the click on his phone, indicated he's recording.

"Sherlock is going to kill both of you for filming him. Or worse" I warned them. John chuckled as he helped get Sherlock into the back seat of the police car. Lestrade sat down behind the wheel and John beat me to the shot gun seat.

"Yeah, leave me with the drugged idiot" I said as John snickered and closed the door.

#####

"Stop it"

"No"

"Stop it"

"Why?"

"Because it's not funny"

"Yes it is!"

I sighed and leaned back in my seat as John kept filming Sherlock asleep, or unconscious or faking everything for all I know, with his his head on my shoulder.

"Right, give Lestrade his phone back and help me get him out of the car" I said as I got out of the car opened the door so we can get Sherlock inside. John began pulling Sherlock out of the car. I quickly walking up to him and helped hold the detective steady.

"Thanks Lestrade!" I called as he drove away. We draped Sherlock's arms over our shoulders and got him inside the building. John kicked the door shut and we began hauling Sherlock up the stairs and into the flat.

"Listen, I've got a date tonight and I would really appreciate it if you could stay wi-" John began but I immediately cut him off.

"John, it's fine. I could stay with Sherlock for the night" I said. John smiled and we dragged Sherlock to his room.

"I better go get ready" John declared. He dropped Sherlock on his bed as I stood by watching his chest rise and fall slowly. I glanced at Sherlock. He looked peaceful when he slept. Less stress and concentration in his handsome features. I stood up quietly and left him to sleep. I quickly went to my flat to get my laptop. I came back and settled down comfortably on the couch. I opened the document about the hiker and began writing what Sherlock had explained at Irene Adler's house when John came into the living room in a new shirt, slightly damp hair and a nice jacket with dark jeans.

"You look great John!" I exclaimed. His cheeks turned rosy.

"Thanks Rachel. And thank you so much for staying here with him" John said as he put his arms around me.

"Your welcome. Now go have fun on your date!" I said, gently pushing him to the door. He waved and closed the door behind him.

#####

My eyelids began drooping as I kept starring at my laptop typing, another case Lestrade had emailed me. I spent a few hours on my laptop after John had left. All drowsiness left me as soon as I heard Sherlock call out:

"John!" He called

"Rachel?" Sherlock called a little louder. I snapped my laptop shut and jumped off the couch. I was about to turn the knob when I heard something hit the floorboards. I pushed the door open and found Sherlock struggling to get off the floor. _I wonder how he ended up there._

"You okay?" I asked as Sherlock managed to get to his feet.

"How did I get here?" Sherlock asked, ignoring my question. He kept staggering even if he was standing on one spot.

"Well, I don't suppose you remember much. You weren't making a lot of sense. Oh, I should warn you: I think Lestrade filmed you on his phone" I said.

"Where is she?" He asked.

"Where's who?" I asked, slightly confused.

"The woman, That woman" He said.

"What woman?" I asked as I watched him stumble around the room aimlessly.

"The _woman _woman" He exclaimed, staggering a bit on the spot.

"What, Irene Adler? She got away. No-one saw her" I said as he staggered to the open window and looked out, holding on to the windowsill to keep himself from falling.

"She wasn't here, Sherlock" I told him.

"Where's John?" He asked letting go of the windowsill but collapsing on the floor.

"He's on a date..." I said but my voice faltered as I watched him drag himself across the floor, looking under his bed. Why did he think Irene Adler was here?

"What are you ...? What ...? No, no, no, no" I said as I pulled him off the floor.

"Back to bed" I ordered as Sherlock fell on his bed. I turned to leave but I felt a warm hand take my own. I glanced down and saw Sherlock was holding my hand.

"Please don't leave" He whispered. He looked like a scared and helpless child.

"Sherlock, I'll just be next door" I said softly. He gave me a pleading look. I sighed and sat down at the edge of his bed. There was a moment of silence where Sherlock traced circles into my hand with his thumb before his eyes shot open.

"Did you just say Lestrade filmed me on his phone!?" He asked.

"You hit that brilliant head of yours on the floor, twice, after I told you that and you still remember?" I asked him.

"You think I'm brilliant?" He asked quietly. I smiled at him and shook my head.

"Yes I think your brilliant. Now go to sleep, you need rest" I ordered. Sherlock smiled and closed his eyes. After a few moments, his breathing got lighter. _He's fallen asleep holding my hand!?_ I carefully slipped my hand out of his warm one and covered Sherlock with his blanket. I tiptoed out of his room and closed the door.

I plopped down on the couch and turned the telly on. I stared at some crap show from a few minutes before my phone started ringing. Maybe it's John wanting to check on Sherlock. I took my phone and out my pocket and stared wide eyed at the caller ID. _Jack_. Oh shit, I completely forgot about him during this Adler case!

"Hello" I said as I answered the call.

"_Hey Rachel, I was wondering if you'd like to have a late dinner tonight_" Jack said. I glanced at the clock. 9:33

"Oh I'd love too..." I began, thinking of a good excuse so I can stay and take care of Sherlock.

"_Great! We can go to th-_" He began but I cut him off._  
_

"But I can't because I've got to take care of my friend" I said.

"_Oh?_" Jack said.

"Yeah, he's hung over, can barely walk so I've got to make sure he doesn't hurt himself getting out of bed" I explained, remembering how Sherlock had fallen out of his bed.

"_He?_" Jack asked. I mentally kicked myself for saying he. Jack probably thinks I can't go because I'm shagging someone

"Yeah well I gotta go, he's thrown up on the floor so bye! Next time I'll be available for dinner" I said quickly and turned my phone off. I watched telly for a few hours before my eye lids began drooping. I leaned into the warmth of the couch and fell into a deep slumber


	19. Chapter 19

**You can find this story on as well as here! Enjoy :)**

Well, I can say I slept soundly the whole night, but I would be lying. The first time I woke up, I didn't immediately open my eyes because I knew someone was there. Maybe John had come home from his date. The second time I awoke, it was because something warm and soft, like a wool blanket, was draped over me. I heard the floorboards next to me creak and I cracked my eyes open. The living room was dark but I could make out a tall shape, still staggering from the effects of the drug, walking away from where I lay on the couch. I closed my eyes and curled up to the warmth of what I assumed was the blanket Sherlock had given me.

#####

"Rachel, wake up" John said. I groaned as the sunlight hit me.

"What time is it?" I asked sleepily.

"It's 8:13" John said after a short pause, probably checking his watch. I opened my eyes and sat up straight.

"Is that... Sherlock's coat?" John asked, grinning. I glanced down at what I assumed to be a blanket but it was Sherlock's black coat. I felt my cheeks get warmer so I turned away from John who was watching me with amusement.

"Right, Mrs. Hudson is cooking breakfast, if you'd like to join us..." John said. I nodded and threw Sherlock's coat in his face. I heard him chuckle as I walked out of the flat and down the stairs to my own.

Why did Sherlock give me his coat? The question was burning at my mind as I took a quick shower. Hoping out of the shower, I brushed my impossible curls and braided my hair down the side. I slipped into a pair of jeans and a Rolling Stones t shirt. I slipped into my cardigan and laced my Doc Martens. I walked out of my flat and passed the front door just as someone knocked on it. I turned the knob and pulled the door open.

"Mycroft? What are you doing here?" I asked, slightly surprised that Mycroft had come over for a visit. He usually kidnaps either me or John to talk to us.

"I'm here to speak with my little brother" He said.

"He's upstairs" I said as I closed the door. Mycroft offered me a smile before heading upstairs.

"Rachel, why did you let _him_ in?" Sherlock asked, clearly irritated that his older brother was here.

"He said he needed to talk to you" I simply said.

"That is no reason to let him in" Sherlock scoffed.

"Shut up and eat your breakfast" I said sternly. Sherlock was about to say something but shut his mouth, turning his attention back to the newspaper he was reading.

"I never understood how you do that" John said as I sat down at the table across Sherlock.

"Do what?" I asked as Mycroft began looking around the flat. He took a bite out of his breakfast before answering.

"How you man-" John began but Sherlock cut him off.

"The photographs are perfectly safe, Mycroft. No need to look through my possessions" Sherlock said.

"In the hands of a fugitive sex worker" Mycroft said.

"Oh and I'm you've already deduced that's not the only reason I allow myself to look through your belongings" Mycroft said with a hint of distaste. I turned my attention away form my plate and watched Sherlock as his face paled (if that's possible) and he began fiddling with the paper as he read it.

"She's not interested in blackmail. She wants ... protection for some reason. I take it you've stood down the police investigation into the shooting at her house?" Sherlock asked, ignoring what Mycroft had said. What did he mean?

"How can we do anything while she has the photographs? Our hands are tied" Mycroft explained.

"She'd applaud your choice of words" Sherlock said. I kicked him under the table. John chuckled as he watched Sherlock wince in pain.

"You see how this works: that camera phone is her "Get out of jail free" card. You have to leave her alone. Treat her like royalty, Mycroft" Sherlock continued.

"Though not the way _she_ treats royalty" I pointed out. Mycroft smiled humorlessly. I nearly choked on my tea as an orgasmic sound filled the room.

"What was that?" I asked. Mycroft and John both frowned out the sound.

"Text" Sherlock, said flipping a page of the newspaper. He avoided our eyes as he read. But... his eyes weren't moving. He was trying to appear nonchalant by his text alert.

"But what was that noise?" John asked. Sherlock got up and took his phone. He glanced at it before turning to Mycroft.

"Did you know there were other people after her too, Mycroft, before you sent John and I in there? CIA-trained killers, at an excellent guess" Sherlock explained as he sat back down.

"Yeah, _thanks_ for that, Mycroft" I said sarcastically as Mrs. Hudson put a plate of food in front of Sherlock.

"It's a disgrace, sending your little brother into danger like that. Family is all we have in the end, Mycroft Holmes" Mrs. Hudson said sternly.

"Oh, shut up, Mrs. Hudson" Mycroft said.

"MYCROFT!" The three of us exclaimed furiously. Mycroft glanced at our angry faces and cringed slightly.

"Apologies" He said smugly.

"Though do, in fact, shut up" Sherlock said. Mrs. Hudson scoffed and turned to the kitchen just as another orgasmic sound filled the room. Thankfully, I had nothing to choke on this time.

"Ooh. It's a bit rude, that noise, isn't it?" Mrs. Hudson said as she turned to Sherlock, who read the new text.

"There's nothing you can do and nothing she _will_ do as far as I can see" Sherlock said as if nothing had happened.

"I can put maximum surveillance on her" Mycroft suggested.

"Why bother? You can follow her on Twitter. I believe her user name is "TheWhipHand"" Sherlock explained.

"Yes. Most amusing" Mycroft said sarcastically just as his phone rang.

"Excuse me" He said, fishing his phone out of his pocket and walking out of the room. Sherlock watched him leave suspiciously.

"Why does your phone make that noise?" I asked, taking another bite out of my breakfast.

"What noise?" Sherlock asked.

"_That_ noise – the one it just made" I said. John kept eating his breakfast, hiding his amused smile.

"It's a text alert. It means I've got a text" Sherlock explained.

"Hmm. Your texts don't usually make that noise" John chimed in.

"Well, somebody got hold of the phone and apparently, as a joke, personalized their text alert noise" Sherlock said.

"Hmm. So every time they text you ..." I began as the orgasmic sound filled the room once more.

"It would seem so" Sherlock stated.

"Could you turn that phone down a bit? At my time of life" Mrs. Hudson said from the kitchen as Sherlock read the text. He put his phone down and continued reading the paper.

"I'm wondering who could have got hold of your phone, because it would have been in your coat, wouldn't it?" I pondered aloud, recalling Sherlock giving his coat to Irene Adler yesterday. He raised the newspaper so it was obscuring his face.

"I'll leave you to your deductions" Sherlock said, hiding behind the newspaper.

"We're not stupid you know" John said with a small smile.

"Where _do_ you get that idea?" Sherlock asked sarcastically. I kicked him under the table again and John laughed as Sherlock yelped. I took another bite out of my breakfast to keep myself from laughing at Sherlock as Mycroft came into the room.

"What else do she have?" Sherlock asked him.

"Irene Adler. The Americans wouldn't be interested in her for a couple of compromising photographs. There's more" Sherlock said, standing up from the table and facing his older brother.

"_Much_ more" He added as he walked closer to Mycroft, probably trying to intimidate the answers out of him as Mycroft clearly likes his personal space.

"Something big's coming, isn't it?" Sherlock asked.

"Irene Adler is no longer any concern of yours. From now on you will stay out of this" Mycroft said sternly.

"Oh, _will_ I?" Sherlock asked.

"Yes, Sherlock, you _will_" Mycroft said, giving his little brother a smug smile. Sherlock shrugged and turned away.

"Now, if you'll excuse me, I have a long and arduous apology to make to a very old friend" Mycroft said.

"Do give her my love" Sherlock said as he picked up his violin. Mycroft nodded at John and I as Sherlock began plucking away at the strings on his violin, staring out the window.

"Right, I've got to go " I said as I stood up with my empty plate, setting it down in the sink.

"Where are you going?" John asked as he put the other dishes in the kitchen sink as well.

"I've got a date tonight" I said happily.

"That's great!" John exclaimed.

"So, what's his name?" He asked.

"His name is Jack" I simply said as I walked out of their flat. I walked down the stairs and heard Sherlock playing somewhat angrily on his violin. Maybe he's just a bit worked up because of Mycroft's visit. Yeah, that's probably it.

#####

I twirled in front of my mirror, my silk puff skirt bellowing around my black legging covered thighs. I adjusted the white and black polka-dotted collar on my blue jumper. I tucked the blue jumper into the beige skirt and laced my beige floral print Doc Martens. Now that I'm ready, I should go check up on John and Sherlock, see if they haven't killed each other because it's been eerily quiet today. Smoothing out my skirt, I walked out of my flat and up the stairs to 221B. Not bothering to knock on the door, I walked in and found Sherlock sitting on the floor near a blazing fire, resting his head on the seat of his armchair as he stared at the ceiling. Sherlock wasn't wearing his blazer, he was just in his white button down with the sleeves rolled up and his black trousers. I looked around and noticed John was no where to be found. I walked up to Sherlock and nudged his leg, waiting for a reaction. Nothing.

The room was dark except for the fire and through the curtains, I could see the moon rising into the dark blue sky.

"Don't you knock?" Sherlock suddenly asked, breaking the silence.

"It's never bothered you before" I pointed out as I sat down on the floor next to him.

"What are you doing?" I asked as he resumed his position of staring at the ceiling. I could see the cut on his cheek was not looking any better. Neither was his red jaw.

"Aren't you supposed to be on a date?" Sherlock asked, ignoring my question.

"Uh yeah, in about 20 minutes" I said as I glanced at my watch.

"Where's John?" I asked, suddenly suspicious at his absence. Sherlock thought for a moment.

"He went out" Sherlock said.

"You think you'll survive one night without John and I?" I asked playfully.

"Oh and please don't invite some assassin for tea" I warned.

"Why would I do that?" Sherlock asked sarcastically.

"I don't know, you might get bored. Everyone knows how you are when your bored" I said.

"I'm bored now" Sherlock pointed out.

"So you've resorted to staring at the ceiling? Must be an interesting ceiling if it's worthy of your attention" I said. Sherlock chuckled and stopped staring at the ceiling.

"Why do you always wear those boots?" Sherlock suddenly asked, pointing at my Doc Martens.

"That's the same as asking you why you wear button downs instead of t shirts" I said.

"Because I like them" Sherlock stated.

"I thought you only wear those shirts because people pay attention to a well dressed man" I said. Sherlock laughed and shook his head, his curls almost reaching his eyes.

"Your deduction skills are getting better" Sherlock pointed out.

"So I'm right?" I asked.

"Nope" Sherlock said.

"Alright, I'll try again" I said as I narrowed my eyes and looked at him. Okay, he was bored, obviously. But why resort to sitting on the floor instead of his armchair or the couch? I watched curiously as Sherlock gave me that half smirk of his.

"Why are you sitting on the floor?" I asked, giving up on my deduction.

"You know, you always ask clever questions. You tried to deduce me and noticed I was sitting on the floor, not in my armchair. Well I've sat in my armchair for about an hour, then I lay on the couch and now I'm sitting on the floor" Sherlock explained.

"Basically, what your saying is that your too lazy to go outside and do something productive?" I asked.

"I am doing something productive, I was in my Mind Palace" He said.

"New case?" I asked. Sherlock's cheeks turned rosy and he looked away from me.

"Uh yeah" He said.

"Sherlock, why did you think that Irene Adler was in your bedroom last night?" I asked, curious to know.

"Who do you think returned my coat and personalized their text alert?" Sherlock asked.

"Is that why your window was open?" I asked, recalling him looking out the window when he was in his drugged state. Why would he open the window if it's cold outside? Sherlock nodded and looked back at me.

"Did you... Did you cover me with your coat last night?" I asked quietly. I felt my cheeks suddenly get warmer. Sherlock cleared his throat awkwardly. He nodded and scratched his head.

"Um thank you" I said and quickly shutting my mouth, not wanting to say anything embarrassing. We both looked to different directions, Sherlock staring at the fire and me looking at the couch. After a few moments, I felt Sherlock's gaze on me. I turned to him and found that I was drowning in the blue and greenness of his eyes. I never figured out what color they were. Sometimes his eyes were an icy blue, sometimes green and sometimes a turquoise with a bit of golden flecks around his pupils. My eyes drifted from his to his sharp cheekbones, chiseled features and finally to his Cupid's bow lips.

The time I spent focusing on Sherlock's handsome features, I didn't notice that we were both leaning closer to each other. The personal space between was almost non-existent. Our lips were inches apart when the doorbell rang. Sherlock sighed and closed his eyes, leaning back against his chair.

"Have fun on your date" He said quietly. I smiled sadly and ruffled his hair. Sherlock chuckled as I stood up. I smoothed out my skirt and walked towards the door. I turned about found Sherlock's eyes drift up to my face. Where had he been looking...?

"Goodnight Sherlock" I said softly. He offered me a smile. That genuine smile where you can see his dimples. I returned the small and went downstairs. I took my beige purse, matching my skirt, and opened the front door.

"Hey Rachel! You look amazing" Jack said. He was wearing a white v neck with a black leather jacket, black jeans and grey derby shoes.

"Thank you! You look quite handsome" I said. He smiled and offered me a hand. I gladly took it and closed the door behind me.  
"So, where are we going?" I asked as we walked away from the building.

"It's a surprise" Jack said. I glanced over my shoulder at the only lit window of 221B. The curtain was moving slightly, so someone must have just stood there.

**Alright, Rachel and Sherlock almost kissed and Jack interrupted them! Don't hate me. Rachel and Jack are going to date for a while until Rachel starts to fall for Sherlock, and he for her. Reviews make me happy :)**


	20. Chapter 20

**As you guys know, the beginning of A Scandal in Belgravia takes place in early June and the plot continues through out the year so I'm just saying this now, I probably won't be writing about what happened during those months but maybe I will... Enjoy!**

Grinning to myself, I closed the door to my flat. I dropped my purse on the sofa, kicked off my Doc Martens and danced around the room. God, I feel like a schoolgirl after her first date! Maybe it's because Jack is as cute as button, being charming and poetic.

Sherlock can be charming when he wants to, and he is certainly better looking then Jack, but how does Sherlock feel about me? What was that little moment before Jack rang the doorbell?

Pushing the thoughts away, I walked into the bathroom, putting my blond curls in a messy bun and washing off the bit of makeup I decided to wear. I walked out of the bathroom and plopped down on my bed. I sighed contentedly as I snuggled into the duvet. Suddenly, my phone buzzed, indicating someone has sent me a text. Who could be texting me this late? I grabbed my phone from my nightstand and unlocked it. Checking my messages, my heart nearly stopped as my pulse quickened. Weird how that happens when your scared. I jumped off my bed as my arm suddenly screamed with pain, as if someone was deepening the letters etched into my skin. I threw my phone on my bed and and walked a good 10 feet away. I walked to the corner of the room, hidden by my big bookshelf and sank to the ground, pulling my knees closer to me so I was hugging them.

How did he know? How could he have known? I pulled my sleeve up, expecting to see blood seeping through the fabric, but the letters were just as they were yesterday, and the day before that and so on. I closed my eyes to keep the tears from falling as I buried my face in my knees. The words he had texted me were permanently etched into the darkness of my eyes:

**_How was your evening with Jack? _**  
**_-JM xxx_**

After what seemed like hours, there was a knock on the door. I opened my mouth to call for whoever it was to go away but my voice cracked from lack of speaking during the hours I had spent huddled in this corner crying. My body racked with more sobs. There was searing pain all over my body, though I knew that it wasn't real. It was my imagination replaying all the tortures Moriarty had implanted on me while he kept me hostage.

The knocking in the door became more urgent but I ignored it. Whoever it was could wait until morning. That is certain. Suddenly, the knocking stopped. In the eerie quiet, I heard my phone buzz once again. I also heard the sound of the lock sliding open ad the door creaking open.

What if its him? What if he's come to tattoo more names into my skin with a knife. I shut my eyes tighter as streamed down my cheeks. I heard slow footsteps, coming closer to my room. The door to my bedroom creaked out and the footsteps were extremely loud in the silence. But they weren't nearing me. Whoever it was hasn't noticed I'm sitting in the corner of the room. I bit my lip so my choked sobbing was held back as tears trickled down my cheeks. I refused to open my eyes. I was scared it was him.  
Suddenly, I felt someone next to me. I sank deeper into the corner. As soon as someone's warm hands touched my knee, I recoiled, almost making a hole in the wall.

"Rachel it's me" said a baritone voice.

"It's just me" they tried again.

"He's not here. It's only me" They said.

"Please look at me" they almost pleaded. They took my hands into their own and I thought I knew who it was. Just because those same, large and warm hands had held mine to fall asleep.  
I slowly opened my eyes to find myself staring into an ocean of blue and green.

"What happened?" Sherlock asked softly. He was crouching down in front of me, coldness and cruelty gone from his eyes but replaced with worry and compassion. I swallowed back a sob as the words from the text were floating around in the air. Sherlock reached out a hand a brushed my tears away. He glanced down at my pulled up sleeve, showing his name etched into my arm and his eyes widened. Immediately, he jumped away from me and grabbed my phone. The warmth of his body close to mine was gone. I saw his eyes moving quickly as he read the messages. I watched as he dropped my phone on my bed and crouched down in front of me.

"Your boyfriend texted me" I managed to say. My voice didn't crack from the strain of crying.

"You've just potentially been traumatized and that's all you've got to say?" Sherlock asked with a reassuring smile.

"Your boyfriend texted me?" He added, mimicking me. I managed a smile at his attempt to cheer me up.

"This is all my fault" Sherlock said, pulling my sleeve down and hiding the letters that spelled his name.

"Sherlock, how could this be your fault?" I asked.

"We'll it's my name on your arm, isn't it?" Sherlock said.

"Come to think of it, I don't know that many Sherlocks" I said with a small smile. He looked up at me and smiled as well.

"Come on, your sleeping in our flat tonight. I'm not leaving you alone here" Sherlock decided. I nodded and looked around my dark flat, only lit up by my night stand lamp. I felt strong arms slip around me and I was lifted into the air with ease. It always surprised me how strong Sherlock was for someone so lean. I began to drift in and out of consciousness from the shock and stress of having Moriarty text me.

The next time I opened my eyes, I was in a soft bed that smelled a lot like Sherlock: expensive cologne and a bit of tobacco. The room was dark but I recognized the frame Periodic table on the wall. I'm in Sherlock's bedroom. I took in my surroundings before my eyes began drooping and I fell into a deep slumber filled with curly haired detectives and evil psychopaths.

#####

I have to admit, it's not fun waking up to the wailing of a violin. Especially after my traumatic experience last night. There was a knock on the door. I sank deeper into the warm pillow as the door opened.

"I know your awake" John said.

"Sherlock told me what happened last night. We would know if Moriarty was really in your flat" John explained.

"How could he have known about Jack?" I asked, sitting up straight.

"I don't know" John admitted, leaning against the door frame.

"Sherlock's gone out and I need to get the shopping he refused to get. You'll be okay on your own?" John asked.

"Actually, I've got to give Lestrade the report on a new case because he's not answering my calls or texts" I explained as I jumped out of bed.

"I'll see you later Rachel!" John called as I walked out of the flat and down the stairs. I took a deep breath before turning the knob and opening the door to my flat. I slowly walked in, turning the lights on everywhere and quickly shutting the door. I checked anywhere for any signs of intruders but I found none. After convincing myself there's no one in my flat, I hopped into the shower, hoping the warm water would calm my nerves.

I braided my impossible curls down the side and slipped into my army jacket and slung my bag over my shoulder. I quickly stuffed the report into my bag and walked out of the flat.

After what happened last night, I couldn't help but glance over my shoulder every few feet that I walked down the street. I wrapped my jacket around me as a cold breeze blew through the air. For a morning in early June, it's bloody cold. I turned the corner of the street when someone called out my name. I froze and turned around, expecting to see a familiar face in the dozen of people that were sweeping through Baker Street.

"Rachel!" A man called, running up to me. He looked like the one person who stands out in a crowd with his dark purple blazer, black trousers, grey vest, bow tie and boots.

"Do I know you?" I asked the man as he ran up to me. He was a head taller than me, maybe taller, and had a mop of light brown hair.

"Right! Regeneration" He muttered to himself.

"You've met my friend!" He exclaimed. I gave him a quizzical look.

"Tall, nice hair, brown suit, red Converse" He tried.

"Oh! I just bumped into him on the street. I didn't even get his name" I explained.

"Right. I'm the Doctor and I need to ask you a favor" the man said.

"Doctor who?" I asked.

"Just the Doctor" He explained. I nodded, slightly confused.

"Have you seen a girl, looks like you except ginger?" the Doctor asked.

"Uh no, I haven't" I admitted.

"Ah Rory's going to kill me" He muttered to himself.

"Wait, Rory? Rory Williams?" I asked.

"How do you know him?" The Doctor asked.

"We dated for a few weeks when he was in London about 3 years ago" I explained. He nodded and glanced around the street.

"Alright, I've got to go, it was nice seeing you again, Rachel!" The Doctor exclaimed, running down the street and turning the corner. What did he mean seeing me again? I've never met anyone named the Doctor. But Doctor who!?

#####

"Eleanor!" I called as soon as I saw my friend walking towards our office.

"Rachel, you haven't come in for a while, what happened?" She asked, walking towards me.

"I've been writing articles about the cases Lestrade has been giving me" I explained.

"So you work from home now?" She asked.

"Not necessarily, I basically live with the man who solves the cases Lestrade gives me" I said.

"Right, Sherlock Holmes. Have you 2 went out yet?" She asked excitedly.

"Sherlock, is Sherlock. I don't think he's capable of a relationship. Yeah he's good looking but it's not like were both in love with each other" I said as I walked passed her and into the office.

"Hey Emma" I said as I tossed my bag onto my chair and sat at the edge of my desk.

"Where's Scott?" Eleanor asked as she came into the room.

"Broom closet" Emma stated. I was about to ask what she meant when Scott came into the room. His blond hair was a mess and he looked a bit love struck. Oh! _Broom closet_! He noticed me and winked at me.

"How's Dean?" I asked him playfully.

"He's good" He said. I eyed him with suspicion as he sat down in his chair.

"Next time, pick a sound proof broom closet. I heard you 2 when I was in the hall" I told him. Eleanor and Emma burst into laughter as Scott grinned at me.

"So where have you been these past weeks?" Scott asked me as Eleanor and Emma continued laughing.

"Writing articles for Lestrade" I explained.

"How's Sherlock" He asked, wiggling his eyebrows.

"He's still not gay" I told him. Suddenly, the image of Sherlock's lips inches away from mine flashed before my eyes.

"Damn it" Scott cursed, pulling me out of my reverie.

"I'll text you if Sherlock admits he's gay" I said as I jumped off the desk. I slung my bag over my shoulder.

"No actually, give me his number when he admits he's gay so I can ask him out" Scott corrected.

"Scotty, I'm sure Sherlock isn't gay because he's going to ask Rachel out and the'll get married and live happily ever after!" Emma squealed.

"Are we talking about the same Sherlock? The cold and emotionless Sherlock who is married to his _work_. I don't even like him" I said.

"Ok! Enough about Sherlock, we're going out tonight and your coming with us" Eleanor said, pointing at me.

"I don't drink" I stated.

"Yeah, we'll see about that tonight" Emma chimed in.

"Maybe another time, I've got loads of reports to finish writing for Lestrade" I said, walking out of the room. I wonder if Sherlock has figured out that I don't drink. I wonder if he knows _why_ I don't drink.

Pushing the thoughts away, I walked past Lestrade's office, dropped the report on his desk and made my way out of Scotland Yard.

#####

"No cases?"

"Nope"

"We should hide the gun from him"

"I'm on it"

I took a sip of my tea as John pulled the gun from one of the drawers in the desk and tucked it into his jeans.

"Do you think he's asleep" John asked, sitting down next to me.

"I don't think so" I admitted.

"I'm not deaf either!" Sherlock called from the living, not opening his eyes as he lay on the sofa.

"Ok, he's not asleep" John stated. I watched curiously as Sherlock's eyes flew open. He jumped off the sofa and began pacing the room, rolling up his shirt sleeves. He froze in his tracks and looked around the room. In the blink of an eye, he began looking through flies, throwing papers over his shoulder.

"Where are they!?" He asked. I looked at John was trying to stop himself from laughing.

"What?" I asked Sherlock.

"The cigarettes! Where did you hide them!?" Sherlock asked, looking through the sofa cushions.

"Sherlock, you don't need to smoke to keep yourself from boredom. Your doing fine anyways" John said.

"How long has he been cooped up in here?" I asked.

"A few days" John said.

"Without leaving?" I asked.

"Yep" John replied.

"Right, it's time for some fresh air, Sherlock" I said as I jumped off my seat and walking towards the detective, who was crawling on the floor, looking under the carpet.

"Sherlock" I tried, crossing my arms and looking down at him.

"Just tell me where they are!" He exclaimed, rising to his full height, which was many inches taller than me.

"No" I said sternly.

"Please" He tried again. I shook my head and he sighed.

"My darling Rachel, please please please tell me where they are" He said almost poetically, giving me the puppy dog eyes.

"Don't give in to the look Rachel! He's deceitful" John joked from the kitchen.

"That doesn't work on me, Sherlock" I told him.

"Come on, you need fresh air. It'll clear your mind" I told him, taking his hand and dragging him out of the flat.

"Air, air is boring" Sherlock stated as I managed to push him out the door and lock it before he can get back inside.

"If air is boring, why do you breath it?" I asked as we walked down the street, no direction or destination in particular. Sherlock turned away and I could see he was smiling.

"They were in the bookshelf" I told him after we walked a few blocks away from the house.

"Next to what book?" He asked.

"Behind the Bible" I told him, smirking.

"That was clever. Hiding something I need next to something I don't pay attention to. Very clever" Sherlock commented.

"John is probably going to throw them out, or burn them" I said.

"Most likely the latter" Sherlock said.

"Why did you drag me here?" Sherlock asked distastefully as we reached a park.

"For fresh air" I explained.

"Why do I need fresh air?" He asked.

"Are you still craving?" I asked.

"No" He said, stuffing his hand in his pockets.

"Exactly" I said. My point is proven: fresh air helps clear your mind.

"When was the last time you ate?" I asked as Sherlock kicked a pebble from the path.

"3... days ago" He said, uncertain if it was 3 days or more.

"Right time to eat then" I said as we continued walking through the park.

"Eat"

"No"

"Eat"

"No"

"I'll burn your violin if you don't eat"

"Fine"

I smiled proudly and watched Sherlock take a bite out of his salad. Out of all the things he could have eaten, Sherlock chose a salad. Why?

"You wouldn't _really_ burn my violin would you?" He asked.

"It depends" I said.

"Your lying" He stated before taking another bite.

"How do you know?" I asked.

"Because your not looking me in the eye" He simply said.

"That's not credible proof that I'm lying" I pointed out. Sherlock narrowed his eyes and gave me 'the look'.

"Your drumming your fingers against the table" He said.

"So?" I asked.

"You always do that whenever your nervous or lying" Sherlock explained.

"That is credible by observation" I said.

"Basically, I'm right" Sherlock said, continuing to eat his salad.

"Instead of burning your violin, I'll just paint it pink. Much funnier" I said.

"I've got no problem with pink" Sherlock said casually.

"Yes you do" I stated.

"Do I?" Sherlock asked.

"Your a man" I said.

"Really? I haven't noticed" Sherlock said sarcastically.

"Men don't like pink" I added.

"That's a stereotype" Sherlock protested.

"If it's a stereotype, why don't you wear pink shirts?" I asked.

"Why are we talking about this?" Sherlock asked, eager to change the subject.

"Alright, it's settled" I said.

"I'm painting your violin pink" I said happily.

"Don't you dare" Sherlock warned.

"I think I've got some paint back at my flat..." I said, standing up from my chair. Sherlock watched me with wide eyes as I slowly walked away from the table.

"Rachel.." Sherlock said.

"Bye!" I called as I ran out of the restaurant. I ran down the street and into the park. Glancing over my shoulder, I saw Sherlock running after me. Crap, he's fast. I ran through the park, occasionally tripping over a branch. I looked over my shoulder and found Sherlock speeding up. Never thought I would be playing a (I don't know if friendly) game of tag with Sherlock Holmes. I continued running till I felt hands slip around my waist, lifting me off the ground.

"Sherlock, put me down!" I exclaimed. Sherlock laughed and set me down on the grass.

"Your very fast" I commented.

"Why did you make me chase after you?" He asked, regaining his breath.

"You were laying on that sofa all day, you needed to move around a bit. What better then a mile long sprint" I said with a smirk. Sherlock chuckled and shook his head.

"Let's go home before I change my mind about painting your violin" I told him.

"I should just put it down on a high shelf" Sherlock said.

"Are you calling me short?" I asked.

"Maybe" He said. I pushed him lightly and he laughed.

"Your the freakishly tall one" I stated.

"I am not 'freakishly tall' your just short" Sherlock protested.

"I'm taller then John" I pointed out.

"That's still short" Sherlock said.

"Shut up" I told him, but I couldn't suppress a smile, not when Sherlock was smiling as well, which is something I never saw except when we were alone.

**ATTENTION! I'm going away for the weekend and I will only be back Monday evening. I'll try to write as much as possible in Notes on my phone so I can update quickly on Tuesday. I'm going to miss all your amazing comments while I'm away so I wrote this little chapter of comfort and fluff. And I've been thinking, if Rachel and Sherlock ever start dating, they need a couple or ship name so you guys think about that while I'm away! Reviews make me happy :)**


	21. Chapter 21

**I'm back! I was supposed to update yesterday but the whole chapter was erased and I didn't have another copy so I had to put together a different version of what I wrote. So sorry for the wait. Basically, this is the Christmas scene in a Scandal In Belgravia and some _other_ things happen...**

I walked down the extremely cold street, wrapping my jacket tighter around me. I was going to meet Jack, my boyfriend of 4 months, for a Christmas lunch. He had said he was busy tonight so I had decided on giving him his gift now. I had gotten Jack a bow tie collection, since he thought they were cool. For Mrs. Hudson, I found a new tea set. I got John a blue knitted jumper with red and white diamond shapes that I would make him wear tonight at his Christmas party. I got Lestrade a new coffee mug that Sherlock can't steal to conduct experiments in. yes, he's done that before. I got a special gift for Sherlock and I couldn't wait to see his reaction. I knew he would like it but I didn't know how he would react. Happy? Calm? Ecstatic?

I walked towards the cafe where I was supposed to meet Jack. I noticed a head of familiar, tousled, light brown hair in the crowd. Smiling, I walked towards my boyfriend. I was a few feet away when I noticed he had his back to me. I also noticed that he wasn't alone. Frowning slightly, I ducked behind a lamp post and narrowed my eyes.

A pair of pale hands with red nails were around his neck. The owner of the red-nailed hands was snogging my boyfriend. Jack, my boyfriend, was kissing another woman when he was about to meet me for lunch. On Christmas. Especially on my birthday.

I light bulb flickered above my head as I got an idea. Or maybe it was the lamp. I pulled out my phone and dialed his number. I waited a few moments and watched as he removed his lips from hers and fished his phone out of his pocket. I got my first look at the woman he was snogging. She was pretty and ginger. Wonderful.

"_Hey Rachel_" He said, extremely out of breath.

"Hello" I said a bit coldly.

"I was just wondering why your busy tonight, on Christmas Eve" I said. His eyes darted around the street as if looking for a good excuse.

"I- uh- I've got work. Yeah, I've got work tonight" He explained.

"You've got work on Christmas Eve?" I asked, trying to sound surprised.

"Yeah" He stuttered.

"Oh, I thought you were just going to shag that ginger woman instead of spending time with your girlfriend. My bad" I spat and ended the conversation. I put my phone away and walked hurriedly down the street, ignoring my now ex boyfriend calling my name. I turned the corner and ran to Baker Street.

Shutting the front door a bit too loudly, I walked into my flat. As soon as the door was closed behind me, I sank to the floor. I hugged my knees and let a few tears trickle down my cheeks.

My first relationship since my fiance's death and I end up getting cheated on. I bottled up my emotions for a year until I met Jack. He was charming, funny, smart and quite frankly adorable. He had been the perfect gentleman, complementing me and being flirtatious. Was that all an act? All those nights he said he was busy, was he just shagging other women? Had this been going on for 4 months!? It's hard to believe that the lovable man I had met 4 months ago had cheated on me, all throughout our relationship. But the days he said he was busy that I had ignored, made me rethink everything about the last 4 months of my life.

Wiping my tears away, I glanced at the clock. I've got 3 hours left till John's party at 7 pm. Ignoring my constantly buzzing phone, I curled up on my bed and stared out the window. The frost that adorned the window was forming into different shapes. Suddenly, the frost morphed into Jack and the ginger woman, just as I had seen them. I shook my head and blinked. The frost was back to normal. It's just my imagination. Just my mind reminding me the horrible events I had just lived through.

#####

I don't know how long I had laid on my bed but the next time my eyes focused on the window, the sun had set and the moon was rising. Jumping off my bed, I made my way towards the window. The street lamps were lit, showing the small snowflakes hitting the ground. Each house on Baker Street was decorated with festive lights, giving the street a cheerful mood. I could see the Christmas trees through every window. The whole street looked like it was from a cliché Christmas movie. Except there was no snow on the ground. Just small snow flakes falling from the heavens. I turned away from the window and looked at the nicely wrapped gifts. Right, time to get ready for the party.

I ran my hand over everything in my closet until something caught my eye. I quickly pulled out the dressed and looked at it. Yep, this is the one. I slipped into the dressed and looked into the mirror. My lips were tainted a light pink and the smokey outline around my eyes made the green almost electrifying. The peach colored dress stopped a few inches above my knees. Yes, it was short but it's a party, so it doesn't really matter, right? The dress was ruffled near the bottom, with peach colored sequins embroidered on the strapless top. I put on matching, 5 inch high heels. For once, I might be taller than Sherlock! I looked nice but I wonder if Sherlock would think so... Wait, why do I care what he thinks? Pushing the thoughts away, I glanced at my green eyes. They were a bit red from crying but it wasn't noticeable. I walked over to the gifts, making sure they were all nicely wrapped. Smiling at my work, I made my out of the flat with the gifts. I passed Mrs. Hudson's wide open door and smiled when I saw her humming and setting small cakes on a tray. I walked up the stairs, heels clicking against the floor. The door wise wide open so I walked in.  
"Oh hey Rach-" John began as soon as he saw me walk through the door but stopped. His mouth hung open in a small "o".

"Hi" I said, setting the gifts down by the small tree. I noticed Sherlock was glued to his laptop.

"Wow" John managed to say. I gave him a quizzical look.

"You look beautiful Rachel" He said, smiling. I think I may have blushed a bit. John's comment made Sherlock peel his gaze away from the screen. He stared at me for a moment, wanting to say something but opening and closing his mouth like a fish.

"Right, enough of that. John go put this on" I ordered, handing him his wrapped jumper. He gave me a look.

"It's your gift" I added. He nodded and walked out of the room. In a moment, he came back, wearing the festive jumper I had bought him.

"You look great John" I said, biting my lip to keep myself from laughing.

"Haha. Very funny. How come your here early?" John asked, eager to get the attention off his new jumper.

"I wanted to help, if you need it of course" I said, glancing at the extremely messy kitchen.

"Right yes. Well we've got Mrs. Hudson to help and-" John began but there was a pounding on the door.

"And that must be Lestarde" he finished before running down the stairs to open the door. I looked over at Sherlock who had stood up from his desk and was staring out the window.

"Sherlock, are you alright?" I asked a bit concerned that 'mr. Punchline', as John called him, had nothing to say.

"What? Yes. Of course I'm alright. Why wouldn't I be?" Sherlock said turning around and facing me.

"You're just unusually quiet" I explained. Sherlock nodded and gave me a fake smile. He moved closer to me. He narrowed his eyes. Great, he probably noticed I've been crying.

"You, um, look nice" Sherlock said quietly, clearly surprised he had complemented anyone but himself. I blushed a deeper shade of red then when John had complemented me.

"Thank you. You look very handsome" I said. He was wearing his usually suit but his curly hair looked tamed. Not as wild as usual. I looked up into his turquoise eyes. I was almost as tall as him in my heels yet he always managed to look taller. John and Lestrade burst into the room. Sherlock quickly moved away and plucked his violin from his armchair.

"Hello Rachel. Wow. You look amazing!" Lestrade exclaimed as he hung his coat behind the door.

"Thank you" I said just as Mrs. Hudson came into the flat caring a tray of cakes. I took the tray from her and set it down in the kitchen. I came back into the room. I noticed John's new girlfriend had arrived as Sherlock was playing 'We Wish You a Merry Christmas". I felt so at home I sat on the couch as I watched him play. The mood was so festive, partly because the flat was decorated all around with fairy lights and cards. Christmas is my favorite holiday for a reason: It brings families together, and families don't have to be related.

I watched Sherlock play. He looked so concentrated on his work, yet a happy kind of concentration, not like when he's deducing and his brows are furrowed from thinking. Once he finished everyone applauded. Sherlock bowed and winked at me.

"Lovely, Sherlock! That was lovely" Mrs. Hudson exclaimed, a glass of wine in her hand as she sat in Sherlock's armchair, watching him happily.

"Marvelous" I told him.

"I wish you could have worn the antlers!" She added, appearing as slightly tipsy.

"Some things are best left to the imagination, Mrs Hudson" Sherlock said, almost politely.

John's new girlfriend went into the kitchen and passed out the little cakes. She walked up to Sherlock and offered him a cake. Had John not told her that his idiot of a best friend doesn't eat?

"No thank you Sarah" Sherlock said. I sighed as I leaned back on the couch, crossing my legs.

"No no no. He's no good with names" John said reassuringly.

"No no I can get this" Sherlock said with a fake smile. John's girlfriend set the tray down and folded her arms.

"No, Sarah was the doctor; and then there was the one with the spots; and then the one with the nose; and then ... who was after the boring teacher?" Sherlock listed all of John's girlfriends. I smiled at Sherlock for trying to be funny. He noticed and smirked.

"Nobody" John's girlfriend replied, shifting from foot to foot.

"Ah Jeanette!" Sherlock exclaimed. John sighed as he sat on the arm of his chair, beside Jeanette. Sherlock walked over to the couch and sat down next to me. Everyone was exchanging small talk except Sherlock and I.

"You pay attention to everything but not to John's girlfriends. Why? Are you jealous of them?" I asked playfully.

"I'm not gay" He scoffed.

"Why were you crying?" He asked me quietly.

"Doesn't matter" I said, turning away from him.

"I'll find out eventually" He stated.

"Sherlock, this is my private life and I would appreciate it if you didn't pry" I said, turning back to him.

"Ah, so it's about Jack. What has he done?" Sherlock asked.

"Can we not talk about this?" I shout-whispered at him.

"I-um- I want to...help" He said softly. It was barely audible but I heard him. Partially because he was sitting a few mere millimeters away. I stared at him wide-eyed.

"It's fine Sherlock" I told him.

"Are you sure?" He asked. He really didn't sound like himself. Maybe it's another one of those Christmas miracles.

"Yes, I just... don't want to think about it" I admitted. He nodded and straightened his black blazer awkwardly.

"Oh dear lord" Sherlock mumbled as he turned away from the door and leaned back against the couch.

"Sherlock behave" I shout-whispered at him. I glanced at the doorway and noticed a mousey looking woman walking through. She was wearing a big coat and a lot of diamond jewelry. She was wearing a lot of makeup, probably trying to impress someone. Oh god, I'm thinking like Sherlock now. I pushed the thought away as I watched John help her with the two bags she was holding.

"Let me" John said gesturing towards her big coat.

"Holy Mary!" John exclaimed as he hung her coat with the others. She was wearing an extremely fancy black dress, exposing a bit too much and trying to make a big effort to be noticed.

"Wow!" Lestrade exclaimed. I glanced at Sherlock who rolled his eyes. I nudged him in the ribs and he shot me a glare.

"Having a Christmas drinks, then?" She asked shyly.

"No stopping them, apparently" Sherlock muttered as he stood up and sat at his desk. I watched as her eyes fixated on Sherlock as he typed away on his laptop. I mentally facepalmed. That was probably Molly, because it was clear she was undressing Sherlock with her eyes. Well, who wouldn't do that? John had told me about her not-so-obvious crush on the detective.

"It's the one day of the year where the boys have to be nice to me, so it's almost worth it!" Mrs. Hudson explained.

"John" Sherlock called from the desk.

"Hmm?" John said as he walked over and looked over Sherlock's shoulder. I watched as Lestrade offered Molly a drink.

"Thank you. I wasn't expecting to see you. I thought you were gonna be in Dorset for Christmas" She told him.

"That's first thing in the morning. Me and the wife – we're back together. It's all sorted" Lestrade explained, grinning.

"No, she's sleeping with a P.E teacher" Sherlock said without looking away from the laptop. Lestrade's smile becomes rather fixed. Molly turned to John who was sitting on the arm of his armchair. Jeanette was sitting in the chair itself.

"And John. I hear you're off to your sister's, is that right?" Molly asked.

"Yeah" He said.

"Sherlock was complaining" Molly admitted. Sherlock raised an eyebrow indignantly.

"Saying" Molly corrected herself.

"First time ever, she's cleaned up her act. She's off the booze" John said happily.

"Nope" Sherlock stated, not breaking his attention from the screen.

"Shut up, Sherlock" I told him sternly. He looked at me with a look that I thought said it's-not-my-fault-his-sister-is-an-alcoholic-don't -take-it-out-on-me. Or it was just that lost puppy look he gave me when I told him to shut up.

"I'm sorry but who are you?" Molly asked turning to me.

"Oh I'm Rachel" I introduced myself. She nodded but gave me a look that said that-doesn't-tell-me-who-you-are.

"I'm Sherlock and John's friend. I live downstairs" I explained as I tucked a stray curl behind my ear.

"A friend? Of Sherlock's?" Molly asked a bit surprised. Sherlock glanced over at the discussion Molly and I were having.

"Yes a friend. Is that a problem?" I asked, feeling extremely defensive all of a sudden.

"No, it's just well Sherlock, he's Sherlock" Molly added quickly as she turned away. I look at her confusedly. I shook my head and stood up, heading towards the kitchen. I felt someone's gaze on me and glanced over my shoulder. I assumed it was Sherlock because he turned away, his cheeks slightly pink.

"Rachel, would you like a cup of wine?" Lestrade asked me. I was about to say no but Sherlock cut me off.

"She doesn't drink" He stated simply. My eyes widened as I stared at Sherlock in disbelief.

"How do you know?" Lestrade asked, also surprised.

"It's quite a simple deduction" Sherlock explained. I waited for him to go on but he just continued to talk to John about something on his blog.

"So you don't drink?" Lestrade asked.

"Nope" I said, leaning against the counter.

I heard Sherlock making deductions again and waited until he's done so I don't have to see the scene that's about to happen. And yet, I don't hear any crying or yelling or slapping. I walked into the room and see Sherlock kissing Molly on the cheek. I looked around the room. Everybody's expression is mirroring mine: astonishment. That's when I heard it. Sherlock's text alert.

"No! That wasn't ... I – I didn't ..." Molly began stuttering.

"No, it was me" Sherlock simply stated.

My god, really!?" Lestrade asked. Trust Sherlock to ruin a nice moment. I was a bit happy their moment was ruined... Why was I happy about that? I wasn't jealous of Molly for getting kissed by Sherlock... Was I?

"It was my phone" Sherlock explains as he pulls out his phone from his blazer.

"57" John said.

"Sorry what?" Sherlock asked, looking up from his phone.

"57 of those texts. Well the ones I've heard" John explains. Sherlock walked over to the mantelpiece.

"Thrilling that you've been counting" Sherlock said as he plucked a box from the mantle piece.

"Excuse me" Sherlock muttered as he stormed out of the room. Everyone looked around with quizzical expressions

"What was that about?" I asked. John shrugged. He sighed and followed Sherlock. I heard muffled voices then the front door open and close as John came back into the room. I gave him a look but he just shrugged.

#####

"You know you didn't have to stay and clean up" John said as he washed the dishes and I dried them. Molly, Lestrade and Mrs. Hudson had left 30 minutes ago, after having opening their gifts and grinning like children.

"How many times are you going to keep saying that?" I asked sarcastically as I set a dish down in the cupboard.

"I dunno" John said with a little chuckle. Right at the moment, his phone rang out.

"Hold on" John said as he dried his hands on a towel and pulled out his phone. He started rummaging around in the living room.

"No. Did he take the cigarette?" John asked whoever he was talking to on the phone. They were discussing Sherlock, that's definite.

"Shit" I heard John mutter under his breath. He kept rummaging around in the living room. I stopped drying the dishes and looked at John in confusion. What was he looking for?

"Looks like he's clean. We've tried all the usual places. Are you sure tonight's a danger night?" John asked. I shook my head in confusion and turned back to the dishes.

"Sherlock's coming in ten minutes" John said coming back into the kitchen. I nodded and went back to drying the last dishes.

"What was that about?" I asked John.

"Uh Mycroft called. So apparently Irene Adler is dead and he's worried about Sherlock. He thinks he may be turning back into old habits" John explained.

"Old habits?" I asked.

"He hasn't told you?" John asked.

"Told me what?" I asked cocking my head in confusion.

"We'll if you don't know, he has to be the one to tell you" John stated. I shook my head as I pushed the thought of anything bad about Sherlock away.

"I'll finish up, shall I?" I said as I washed some wine cups. John nodded and headed towards Jeanette who sat on the couch. I finished with the dishes and walked towards the door.

"Merry Christmas John" I said as I walked out the door.

"Merry Christmas Rachel!" He called down the stairs. I walked past the stairs but I stopped when I caught a glimpse of the snowflakes falling. I opened the front door and stepped outside. It was probably stupid of me to go outside in the freezing cold in a strapless dress but I hadn't seen snow since I left Scotland to go to University in London. A small layer of snow coated the street, as well as the rooftops.

I looked up at the dark sky that was illuminated by Christmas lights. Small snowflakes were falling everywhere. It looked like a true Christmas wonderland: snow everywhere, Christmas lights on the shops, Christmas trees in the windows of every house.

"You'll catch a cold standing out here dressed like that" said a deep, masculine voice from somewhere next to me. I glanced to my side and saw Sherlock standing there, snowflakes landing perfectly in his curls. I smiled at his comment.

"Maybe. But it's worth it" I replied.

"How come you left?" I asked suddenly.

"No reason" he replied shrugging.

"Why are you out here?" Sherlock asked.

"No reason" I replied, mimicking him. Sherlock smirked. That's when I noticed it. Just above the door, above our heads. Green and leafy with red and gold decorating it: Mistletoe.

Sherlock" I said.

"Hmm?" Sherlock said looking at me. I pointed to the mistletoe above our heads. His eyes widened as he looked up. He looked down at me (since he was always taller). I felt a blush creep up my neck under his gaze.

Everything was happening in slow motion. Both Sherlock and I leaned closer to each other, one leaning down a bit, the other standing on tip toe. Finally it happened. His warm, cupid's bow lips crashed onto mine. I felt his warm hands cup my cheeks. I rested my hands at the back of his neck, pulling him closer. No matter how many icy snowflakes bit our faces, neither pulled away. His body pressed against mine brought warmth and it felt like I wasn't even in the middle of a snowy street during winter. This must be the romantic 'magical' kisses everybody sees in the movies. My hand moved to his curls and Sherlock smiled into the kiss.

Suddenly he pulled away. His pale cheeks were flushes from the cold, or from the kiss. I felt goose bumps forming on my body once his warmth escaped me. My arms were still around his neck and he was still embracing me. He rested his forehead against mine, his curls brushing against my temples. I smiled at the smirk dancing it's way into his face. Sherlock leaned down and kissed me once more. I immediately deepened the kiss, pulling him closer to me. This time I was the first to break away.

"I think we should go inside" I whispered, still in his embrace. Sherlock nodded, his curls brushing against my face.

"John probably filmed everything" Sherlock whispered with a light chuckle. I smiled as I pecked his lips. I took his hand and pulled him inside. We stood at the bottom of the staircase. I was about to turn and walk to my flat but he caught my hand.

"Happy Birthday" He said. I noticed he placed something in my hand. I glanced down and saw a silver chain: A necklace. I examined the necklace closely and saw a gemstone on it. More precisely, my birthstone: a blue zircon for December.

"How did you know it was my birthday?" I asked.

"Oxford College degree hanging on your wall. States your birth date" He explained.

"That's not cheating, that's observing" He added.

"Well it's beautiful, thank you Sherlock" I said in amazement.

"I'm glad you like it" He said.

"Right then, mr. Observing, do you mind helping me?" I asked, gesturing to the necklace. He smiled and nodded as he took the chain out of my hand. I turned and felt the cool chain slip around my neck. His hands lingered on my neck a bit long for putting on a necklace.

"Happy 26th birthday, darling" He whispered.

"Merry Christmas mr. Holmes" I said teasingly as I moved closer to him.

"Merry Christmas miss Levine" Sherlock replied, wrapping his arms around me once more. He leaned down and kissed me just as someone came pounding down the steps. We quickly pulled away as John walked down the last step slowly, grinning madly.

"Did I interrupt something?" He asked innocently. Sherlock smiled at him and have me a court nod before bounding up the steps.

"What did I miss?" John asked excitedly, sounding exactly like a school girl.

"And then you wonder why people think your gay" I replied as I walked into my flat.

"Merry Christmas John!" I called before closing the door. I leaned against it and thought: had I just made out with Sherlock Holmes?

**So Rachel and Sherlock kissed! Does that mean they're together? You'll have to review your thoughts on this chapter to find out!**


	22. Chapter 22

**So I've decided I'm going to do this series of short stories. But I'm explaining the plot twist now in case any of you want to read them. So in Doctor Who, Clara always appears in the time and place that the Doctor needs to be saved but there is only one main timeline where they are companions. I'm basing Sherlock and Rachel's relationship on that. My series of short stories is Rachel just being there to save Sherlock and the main timeline is this story. Each short story about Rachel saving Sherlock from anything is going to be probably 10 chapters or less. Those stories are not mentioned here and this story is mentioned there a couple of times when Sherlock puts it together. So if you guys aren't interested, it won't affect your reading this story. Just saying. So the series is called She Was Born To Save Him. The first story is She Was Born To Save Him 1. Yep, enjoy this chapter :)**

It's not like I was ignoring Sherlock. That's a bit hard since he's always there. It was more like I was avoiding him. I don't know how I felt about that kiss on Christmas Eve. Sherlock wouldn't have even cared about the mistletoe and would have walked away but he _did_ kiss me. Maybe it was out of grief over Irene Adler? It did look like he had a bit of a crush on her. Maybe I kissed him back because Jack had cheated on me and I craved comfort? I thought about all of this as I walked down the street to Scott's flat. The only positive thought I had about that kiss was each time I thought about it, I subconsciously began fiddling with the necklace Sherlock had given me. I actually didn't want to take off the silver chain. It somehow brought me comfort. But _Sherlock_ gave it to _me_ so how is it comforting if the man is an emotionless sociopath?

I shook my head and stopped fiddling with the blue zircon as I walked into the building. I waited patiently as the lift doors opened to his floor and walked down the incredibly quiet hallway. It was noon, why wasn't anyone here? Pushing the paranoid thoughts away, I knocked on the dark green door with the engraved numbers :_ 216_. I heard shuffling on the other side of the door before someone turned the knob and the door swung open. I was tackled by a hug before I could come in.

"Hey Scotty" I said after he had let go of me. He was wearing a long sleeved, blue polo, matching his eyes, jeans and derby shoes. His blond hair was ruffled and it made me wonder if he just woke up from a hangover.

"Merry Christmas" He said sleepily, letting me into his flat. His flat had nearly the same decor as mine except while some of my walls were bright colors, his were dark red. The furniture was mostly black but other than that, everything reflected his bright personality, including the neon Beatles poster in the living room above the telly.

"Merry Christmas" I told him.

"Oh Scott! I brought you something!" I exclaimed as I rummaged in my bag.

"Ah there it is" I exclaimed as I pulled out the photograph. His eyes lit up and he scrambled around the room till his hands reached a small wrapped package.

"I got you something too" he said, handing me the gift. I smiled and gave him his own gift. I watched happily as he tore away the wrappings like a little child. A wide grin broke out on his face as soon as he saw the contents of the package.

"Do tell how you acquired this" Scott said as he stared at the photograph I had given him. I felt my cheeks flush at his words. He had the wrong idea about that gift.

"I didn't get that picture the way you think" I told him.

"I don't know how you haven't fallen for him yet. I know I have" Scott said, not peeling his gaze away from the photograph that John gave me. I did wonder why John had a picture of Sherlock sleeping...

"No. You haven't" Scott fake gasped.

"What?" I asked, looking up from the wrapped gift he had given me.

"You fancy Sherlock!" Scott yelled.

"Nope" I lied. I didn't know whether I liked him or not. We _did_ kiss and it _was _amazing but he was an arrogant, know-it-all and cruel man. And yet he was a gentleman, an amazing violinist and he was extremely brilliant. But Sherlock doesn't date, he's married to his work and I couldn't possibly date _anyone_ after the Jack ordeal.

"Sure. Right then, open your present" Scott urged. I carefully tore the wrapping away. My eyes widened and my mouth formed a perfect 'o'.

"Oh my god" I managed to say.

"I knew you would like it. That's how well I know my bestie" He said happily.

"Oh Scott your amazing!" I exclaimed wrapping my arms around him. How could he have possibly known I loved Maroon 5? How could he have possibly known I wanted to go to their concert, which was in 2 weeks and I had 2 tickets.

"Yeah I know" He said, hugging me back.

"This is a truly fantastic present" I told him.

"So is that picture of Sherlock. I think I'll have it framed and put it on my nightstand" He said.

"Because that's so not creepy" I said sarcastically. He stuck his tongue out at me and laid down on the couch.

"So what are we going to do today?" I asked, kicking his feet away and sitting down next to him.

#####

It has been 2 days since _the_ kiss. 2 days and I haven't talked to Sherlock. Maybe he forgot about it? I, on the other hand was constantly thinking about that kiss, Sherlock and all the while fiddling with the blue zircon. I've resorted to walking around London to avoid bumping into Sherlock at 221 Baker Street. Today, my plan wasn't going very well.

I had only walked a couple of minutes before a familiar baritone voice called my name. I'm screwed. I kept making my way through the sea of people until someone caught my wrist. I was about to keep walking but something in his voice stopped me.

"Rachel" Sherlock said. He sounded almost... hurt. I turned around and faced him, ignoring the crowds walking past us. The first thing I noticed was that he was wearing the brown watch I had gotten him for Christmas.

"You've been avoiding me for 2 days, what's going-" Whatever Sherlock was going to say, he seemed to have completely forgot about it because he furrowed his brow in thought.

"Your wearing the necklace I gave you" He pointed out. I felt my cheeks suddenly become very warm against the winter air.

"Uh yeah, I haven't taken it off actually" I admitted quietly. I spared Sherlock a brief glance and noticed he was smiling before I averted my eyes.

"Why have you been avoiding me?" He asked. He usually ignored people all the time, so why does he care if I was avoiding him? I actually don't know why I've been avoiding him. Is it because I'm convinced we only kissed out of grief, me losing Jack and Sherlock losing Irene?

"Why did you kiss me when you could have just ignored the mistletoe and went to your flat?" I suddenly asked, the question burning away at my mind.

"Because you said your married to your married to your work"-

"No I-"

"I actually thought you were gay and with John so it clearly doesn't make any sense-"

"Rachel-"

"And you don't date so why would you kiss me-"

"Damn it woman, if you'd shut up for two seconds, I'm trying to explain why I kissed you!" Sherlock exclaimed. I quickly shut my mouth after all my rambling.

"I kissed you because..." He began but his words faltered.

"Go on" I said somewhat teasingly. He shot me a glare.

"I kissed you because... IhavesomesortoffeelingstowardsyouandIdidn'tknowhow totellyou" He said all to quickly.

"What was that?" I asked playfully. Sherlock sighed and ran a hand through his wild curls.

"My whole being is madly affected by you. I've never felt this way towards anyone before and I don't know what to do. Relationships aren't really my area so I don't know what to do with these feelings. And these feelings are committed to you and you alone" He explained. I stared at him in shock. Was that Sherlock's way of telling me he likes me? Sherlock looked at me cautiously, waiting for my reaction.

"And I need to know" He began, taking my hand. I felt his fingers around my wrist, almost like he was feeling my pulse. He looked into my eyes and smirked.

"I need to know if you have those same feelings" He said quietly. My heart was racing a million miles an hour. God, did this really just happen? Did Sherlock Holmes just confess he had feelings for me? Almost as if my body was working by itself, my arms wrapped around Sherlock's torso, pulling him into a warm embrace. He was stiff for a moment before hugging me back.

"You insufferable idiot, of course I feel the same way" I muttered. Sherlock chuckled and hugged me tighter.

#####

It has been 4 days since _the_ kiss and 2 days since Sherlock's confession of love, and I was sitting on the couch of 221B, writing a report about Christmas murders because John had gone out on a date and told me to check up in Sherlock. The idiot had locked himself in his bedroom like a pissed off teenager. I could tell John was worried because Sherlock never spends time in his room. John had said something about Irene Adler's death and Sherlock being upset...

The flat was eerily quiet, no sound coming from Sherlock's closed bedroom door. Right, time to see if he's dead or not. I sighed and jumped off the couch, shutting my laptop and towards his bedroom. I stood in front of his closed door in the dark hallway. I knocked gently on the door. No answer or sound.

"Sherlock?" I called. Still no reply. I sighed and pushed open the door.

Sherlock was enveloped in his bed sheets. A tuff of curls stuck out from the blankets but other than that, Sherlock was completely curled up in his cocoon. I walked over to his bed.

"Sherlock, are you dead?" I asked teasingly. He mumbled something incomprehensible in reply.

"Sherlock" I called again. I leaned down and nudged his shoulder. His eyes flew open and he jumped out of bed with the speed of light. He tumbled over the edge and fell on the floorboards on the other side. Well he's definitely a light sleep.

"You ok?" I asked, trying as best as I could to suppress my laughter.

"Where's John?" He asked sleepily, looking around the dark room.

"On a date" I said nonchalantly.

"Of course he is" Sherlock said as he stood up and walked towards his closet. That's when I noticed that he was wearing dark green boxer-briefs. _Only_ boxer briefs. I know I shouldn't have a problem with Sherlock's constant nudity, I mean I _have_ seen him in nothing but a sheet but this felt different. My eyes kept darting from his torso to his face. As much as I tried, I couldn't help but stare. How was he so lean yet so incredibly muscular. Was that even possible? My eyes roamed his heavily muscled torso and I noticed he had a V line and a dark trail disappearing in under the band of his boxer briefs. Why was this man so physically perfect? He was putting on this bloody parade on purpose and I knew it.

"Your not decent" I stated.

"We'll it didn't seem to bother you when you walked in here" Sherlock said smirking as he slipped into his pants. I tried not to glare at him as he left the band of his boxer briefs showing above his pants.

"Right well I'll go now" I said, trying to fight off the blush creeping up my neck as I watched him slip into his shirt. Before I walked out the door, Sherlock caught my hand. He didn't even button his shirt, and I could make out the_ Ralph Lauren_ on the band of his boxer briefs. Fucking bastard, even his bloody boxer briefs are posh!

"Sherlock can we talk about what happened on Christmas Eve?" I asked. Why did he have to keep his shirt unbuttoned especially when the band of his boxer briefs showing from above his pants!?

_ Bastard, he's doing this little parade on purpose. _

"What happened on Christmas Eve?" Sherlock asked innocently. I sighed as I realized he just wanted me to say it. He can be such a flirt when he wanted to.

"Don't act like you don't remember" I grumbled.

"We'll remind me" Sherlock said quietly. I noticed that we were incredibly close to each other.

That's when I realized what he meant. I bit my lip, trying to hold back the smile growing on my face. I looked up into his eyes, trying to find out what the colour was. I hadn't noticed Sherlock had leaned down a bit. I placed my hand on his exposed chest. I felt his heart beat, and it was going bloody quickly.

"I hate you, you know" I whispered. He chuckled lightly.

"I've been informed" Sherlock replied sarcastically. I stood on my toes and pecked his lips. I would be kissing Sherlock Holmes, in his bedroom with his shirt unbuttoned. I pulled away as I realized something.

"Sherlock?" I asked.

"Hmm?" He said.

"Oh. Your wondering what's going on between us since what happened on Christmas Eve, 2 days ago and just now. Correct?" Sherlock asked. It was more of a statement then a question. I nodded slowly.

"I may not have much experience in these relationship things, but I know what usual happens after things get intimate" Sherlock explained. It didn't surprise me at all that he's never been in a relationship.

"Are you saying were in a relationship now?" I asked. I looked at him as he understood what he had said. He sighed and smiled at me.

"I don't know, what do you think darling?" Sherlock asked in his gentleman-ish voice.

"Sounds ok with me" I replied.

"Are we going to tell anyone?" I asked.

"John will find out sooner or later and blog about it. So lets enjoy the privacy for now" Sherlock explained. I smiled at the thought of John blogging about Sherlock and I.

"Get dressed" I ordered as I turned away from his smirk.

"Now Sherlock" I ordered once more before turning on my heel and walking out of his bedroom. I bit my lip, holding back the smile growing on my face as I went down stairs and into my flat. Apparently, I'm dating Sherlock Holmes. If I told that to anyone who knew Sherlock, they would lock me up in a rubber room. I grinned as I realized Scott will be extremely jealous of me.

**Sorry if this was a bit short, I just wanted it to be fluff and kissing and half nude Sherlock... again. We all know Sherlock is rich and posh and such soooo I thought, why not? All our sociopathic consulting detective boyfriends should have designer clothing, right? Reviews make me happy! **


	23. Chapter 23

**Sorry I haven't updated in a few days! From now on, I'll try to update daily! **

After going through the customary _Happy New Year's Eve! _calls, I decided to finally finish my last reports. Who knew the Christmas holidays were so popular with murders? Oh god, I sound like Sherlock. Speaking of the detective, I haven't seen him all day, neither have I seen John. If they had a case, John would have asked me to join them. So where could they be if there's no case... I must admit, it would be a bit sad if my new boyfriend was killed in the 3rd day of our relationship. It would be sad if he dragged John to his untimely death as well. But this is Sherlock and John, the Consulting Detective and army doctor, they could survive anything. At least that's what _I_ think.

There was an urgent knock on my door as I finished my report. Hoping off my chair, I walked towards the door. Just as I opened the door, something hit my head. My vision swam in and out of focus as I tried to make out what was around me. Gradually, black spots began dancing before my eyes. I collapsed on my cold, wooden floor and blacked out. So much for New Year's eve.

#####

I was awoken by a stinging pain on my left cheek. I was sitting in a quite uncomfortable chair. I tried to cry out but nothing came out of my mouth. I cracked my eyes open and assessed my surroundings. I wasn't in my flat but this place looked familiar. That's when I noticed the yellow, spray-painted smiley face with bullet holes on the wall. Sherlock's flat.

"Oh Rachel" A familiar voice sniffled. Too high and female to be Sherlock or John. I slowly turned my head to avoid dizziness and found Mrs. Hudson, cheek cut and crying. She was sitting in the same chair as me, gun barreled to her head as well.

"Good she's awake" Said a man's american voice behind me. It was familiar as well.

"Now, Miss Levine, tell us where it is?" The man said, coming into view. It was the american man who had tried to kill me at Irene Adler's house.

"Where is _what_?" I spat.

"What the hell are you doing here? I asked as soon as I noticed his gun as well as the other 2 men holding guns. Brilliant.

"I'm here for the camera phone. So Miss Levine, where is it?" He asked.

"What bloody camera phone?" I asked, more confused than angry. The man gave me a smug smile.

"Maybe this'll get you to talk" He said as he backhanded me. The stinging in my cheek increased as soon as he slapped me. Mrs. Hudson sniffled beside me.

"I don't know what it is you want so go fuck yourself" I said coldly.

"You might want to hold your tongue" He warned. If I'm about to die, I'm allowed a very open vocabulary.

"Or what?" I mocked. Just try to keep him talking until someone comes to help us.

"You tried to kill me once, how about you try again. You'll just like the first time" I taunted. The man glared at me. He stepped closer to me and I took my chance and kicked him where it mattered. He howled in pain before hitting me straight across the face. Mrs. Hudson cried a bit more as I felt something warm trickle down my cheek. Blood. I managed to smirk as the man held his private area in pain.

Over Mrs. Hudson's sniffles, I heard the stairs creaking and wondered who else was about to join the little party. The door creaked open slowly and in walked in Sherlock, all dramatically. I couldn't help but roll my eyes.

"Oh Sherlock!" Mrs. Hudson sniffed.

"Don't snivel mrs. Hudson. It'll do nothing to impede the flight of a bullet" Sherlock said nonchalantly. He looked up at the man holding a gun to my head.

"What a tender world that would be" Sherlock exclaimed sarcastically.

"I've been asking this one" the man said, nudging my head with his gun. Sherlock's eyes showed pure fury.

"Doesn't seem to know anything, so I got her to cooperate" he declared, gesturing to my bleeding cheek.

"But you know what I'm asking for, don't you mr. Holmes?" The man continued. I watched as Sherlock's eyes roamed the man's body before landing on his face. Hopefully, he was making a deductions on how to disarm him.

"I believe I do" Sherlock finally stated.

"Oh please Sherlock" Mrs. Hudson cried.

"First get rid of your gun" Sherlock ordered, locking his gaze with the gun barely touching the back if my head.

"Why?" The man asked.

"I dislike being outnumbered. It makes for too much stupid in the room" Sherlock explained. The man glanced at his colleagues.

"You two, go to the car" the man ordered.

"Then get in the car and drive away" Sherlock added.

"Don't try to trick me. You know who I am. It doesn't work" Sherlock said sternly.

"Next, you can stop pointing that gun at me" Sherlock added.

"So you can point a gun at me?" The man asked.

"I'm unarmed" Sherlock said nonchalantly.

"Mind if I check?" The man asked.

"Oh I insist" Sherlock replied sarcastically. He spread his arms. The man came around from behind me, walked over to Sherlock and patted his breast pocket. He flicked his coat open while Sherlock stood meekly with his arms spread out. Sherlock rolled his eyes as the man started patting his back for more weapons. I got the feeling that he had patted Sherlock's bum as well.

In a second Sherlock pulled out a spray can. He sprayed the man's face and head butted him with such force he collapsed on the coffee table.

"Moron" Sherlock said as he slammed the can down on the table.

"It's alright. Your alright" Sherlock said quietly as he examined mrs. Hudson's cut cheek. She batted his hand away and got up shakily. I watched worriedly as she sank into the couch and buried her face in her hands. I hadn't noticed that Sherlock was kneeling down in front of me.

"What did he do?" He asked quietly as he examined the bleeding cut on my cheek.

"He just slapped me a few times. But I'm more worried about Mrs. Hudson. I was unconscious while she got hurt" I explained.

"Are you alright?" He asked. I knew he hated asking typical questions but he seemed generally concerned.

"Yes, I'm fine. Just a little shaken up" I lied.

"Like I said before, you're a horrible liar" Sherlock said with a small smile. I stray tear trickled down my cheek.

"Now why are you crying?" Sherlock asked as if he was talking to a little child. With his hand still on my cheek, he wiped the tear away with his thumb.

"Oh I wonder why, Sherlock. I've just been slapped and held at bloody gunpoint!" I protested. Sherlock glanced over his shoulder at the man lying unconscious on the coffee table.

"Thank you for coming Sherlock" I said as I looked into his eyes.

"It's becoming my job to keep you alive. Your quite clumsy you know that?" Sherlock said teasingly. I smiled as he quickly kissed my uninjured cheek and stood up. He slipped off his coat and hung it on the back of the door.

"Let's have some fun shall we?" Sherlock said looking down at the unconscious man.

#####

"What's going on?" John asked as he came into the room. The american man was tied to a chair with duct tape over his bloody face. John glanced at me sitting on the couch next to Mrs. Hudson then at Sherlock, who was pointing a gun at the man and holding a phone to his ear.

"What the hell happened?" John asked once more.

"Mrs. Hudson and Rachel have been attacked. I'm restoring balance to the universe" Sherlock explained casually. John kneeled down in front of mrs. Hudson and examined her injuries.

"My god. Are you alright?" John asked as he noticed my bleeding cheek.

"Yes John I'm fine. Don't fuss" I said with a smile.

"Yes Lestarde? We've had a break in at Baker Street" Sherlock said into his phone.

"Oh no, we're fine. No, it's the, uh, it's the burglar. He's got himself rather badly injured" Sherlock said casually. I glanced at the man tied to the chair and noticed he and become a bit nervous.

"Oh, a few broken ribs, fractured skull ... suspected punctured lung" Sherlock explained.

"He fell out of a window" Sherlock exclaimed. I sighed and followed John and Mrs. Hudson to her flat.

John gently applied antiseptic to Mrs. Hudson cheek after he had patched me up. I sat on her kitchen counter.

"Oh that stings" Mrs. Hudson uttered.

"Yes I know" John said, trying to comfort her. Suddenly there was a loud crash outside. I pulled the curtains from the window and looked at the man that lay groaning on the rubbish bins.

"That was right on my bins!" Mrs. Hudson exclaimed.

"So how many times _did _he fall out of the window?" Lestarde asked, giving Sherlock a stern look. We were standing in front of the café as the ambulance drove away, taking to flashing lights with it.

"It's a bit of a blur, Detective Inspector" Sherlock replied shrugging.

"I lost count" he added before walking into the flat.

"Rachel?" Lestrade called before I could follow Sherlock.

"Keep an eye on him. He hasn't been the same since christmas" Lestrade said, giving me a pleading look.

"Don't worry" I said smiling.

I walked through the door and found Sherlock leaning against the wall.

"I wonder how he fell out of a window" I mused as I walked by him.

"Someone must have pushed him out" Sherlock added before wrapping his arms around me.

"I believe that was the 4th time my life has been has been threatened because of you" I mumbled as I wrapped my arms around his torso.

"But I was always there to save you" Sherlock pointed out.

"Yeah your just always late" I said. Sherlock chuckled lightly. This man seemed so broken, I really did not understand how he managed to keep it all bottled up. I smiled as I felt him press a kiss to my temple.

"Come on, we should check up on Mrs. Hudson" I said, pulling away. He nodded and followed me down the hall.

We walked to 221A and Sherlock opened the door for me. I nodded a thanks as I stepped over the threshold. I sat on the counter and couldn't help but smile when Sherlock placed a comforting hand on Mrs. Hudson's shoulder.

"She'll have to sleep upstairs in our flat tonight. We need to look after her Sherlock" John ordered.

"No" mrs. Hudson interrupted.

"Of course, but she's fine" Sherlock replied casually.

"No, she's not. Look at her" John said, pointing at the very shaken up mrs. Hudson. Sherlock walked over to the fridge and opened it.

"She's got to take some time away from Baker Street. She can go and stay with her sister. Doctor's orders" John said as Sherlock plucked a cake from Christmas and shut the fridge.

"Don't be absurd" Sherlock protested.

"She's in shock, for God's sake, and all over some bloody stupid camera phone" John said.

"Where it is anyway?" I asked as Sherlock took a bite out of his slice of cake. This must have been the first time I've ever seen Sherlock eat anything...

"Safest place I know" Sherlock said after swallowing another bite.

"You left it in the pocket of your second-best dressing gown, you clot" mrs. Hudson said as she pulled the phone from her shirt and laughed lightly.

"I managed to sneak it out when they thought I was having a cry" she explained as she handed it over to Sherlock.

"Thank you" Sherlock said as he tossed the phone in the air and caught it.

"Shame on you, John Watson" Sherlock finally said.

"Shame on _me_?" John asked quizzically.

"Mrs Hudson leave Baker Street?" Sherlock asked as he put a protective arm around her.

"England would fall!" Sherlock exclaimed dramatically. John and I both smiled at the nice moment that was playing before my eyes. Mrs. Hudson laughed as Sherlock hugged her tighter. Maybe Sherlock Holmes did have a compassionate side after all?

I sat on the couch as Sherlock stood by the window, plucking away at his violin strings. John plopped down in his armchair.

"Where is it now?" I asked.

"Where no one will look" Sherlock explained as if it was obvious.

"Whatever's on that phone is more then just pictures" John finally said.

"Yes it is" Sherlock said as he looked up from his violin and stared it the window.

"So she's alive then" John stated. I didn't need to know who they were talking about. John had told me about _the _woman, Irene Adler, and her 'relationship' with Sherlock.

"How are we feeling about that?" He asked Sherlock. I watched as the detective fidgeted awkwardly with his violin. John sighed and spoke up.

"Do you think you'll be seeing her again?" John asked.

"Right. I'm going to bed then" John said. He stood up and nodded curtly to me. I smiled back at him as he walked upstairs to his room. I was left alone with Sherlock.

Somewhere far away, Big Ben chimed, signalling the New Year. I stood up and walked over to where Sherlock stood by the window. I looked out the window as small snowflakes began to fall in the moonlight. I felt Sherlock's arms slip around my waist and his chin rest atop my head.

"Happy New Year, Rachel" Sherlock said quietly. I turned my head and looked up at the consulting detective who was still staring out the window.

"Happy New Year, Sherlock" I whispered as I stood in my toes and kissed his cheek. I turned and began walking away but he caught my hand gently. Sherlock pulled me closer to him. He pressed his warm lips to mine. Instinctively, I wrapped my arms around his neck. Sherlock smiled as he pulled away.

"I think this new year will be enjoyable" He said quietly. I bit my lip as I nodded, trying to hide the smile growing on my face. I pecked his lips before pulling away.

"Goodnight Sherlock" I said smiling. I walked down the stairs and to my flat. I think this new year might just be quite a handful. Romantic yet dangerous.

**I wanted to write about Sherlock and Rachel going on a date but I don't have any ideas. So if you have a good idea for their date, comment it! **


	24. Chapter 24

I** haven't updated in a while but it was for a good reason. First of all, my laptop broke so I had to get a new one and re install everything so that took about 2 days. Second of all, I pulled a muscle in my arm at my soccer game on Thursday so I wasn't allowed to move my arm, which meant I couldn't type. Third of all, I began writing a Potter!lock story so check it out if you want, it's called The Hogwarts Mystery! Because I'm listening to When I was Your Man by Bruno Mars, this chapter is going to be a bit sad and unexpected... Hopefully you'll like it? This chapter takes place January 6-7 2012. Out of all the stories I've read, the most common ages people gave Sherlock was 31, 33 and 34. For John it was late 30s. So if Sherlock and Rachel are together, there can't be that big of an age gap since she's only 26. I also checked a blog on Tumblr that had everything about the characters and it said Sherlock is 31 so I guess he'll be 31 here as well. If you guys disagree, please tell me so I can change it.**

** Enjoy :) **

It's been a 5 days since the Americans had attacked Mrs. Hudson and myself and I was already started to immerse myself into my normal, daily routine till Mycroft Holmes sent me a text.

**_It's Sherlock's birthday today. Do what you want with this information_**

_**-MH**_

I've never actually thought about Sherlock having a birthday. Obviously everyone has a birthday, it celebrates the day you were born! But Sherlock Holmes isn't like everybody. You don't think about ordinary things, such as birthdays, when your with him because he's just the opposite of ordinary. When your with Sherlock Holmes, your always one step ahead of _everything_.

A knock on the door interrupted my thoughts. I quickly walked towards the door and opened it. I was quite surprised to find John. He usually never comes over, it's always Sherlock picking the lock and sneaking in.

"Hey John" I said as I let him in. He sat down on the sofa and he seemed kind of... anxious?

"Hi. Listen, I got a text from Mycroft saying-" He began but I cut him off.

"You have been living with Sherlock for about a year now and you never bothered to ask him when his birthday was?" I asked.

"I didn't think about it that much because... he's... well he's Sherlock! Stuff like birthdays don't matter to him" John admitted.

"I wonder if he knows that it's his own birthday even. He's probably so wrapped up in his thoughts that he must have forgotten" I said. John chuckled lightly.

"Do you think we should get him a cake or is he just going to insult us and lock himself in his bedroom?" John suggested.

"Is he on a case?" I asked.

"Haven't you heard the gun shots?" John asked.

"If he's not on a case, he'll eat. And if he doesn't, were throwing the cake at him" I stated.

"Throwing cake at Sherlock would be the same as poking a lion with a stick" John protested.

"Don't compare him to a lion, John. He could be eavesdropping and his ego would just expand at being compared to a majestic animal" I joked. Just then, a floor board creaked in the upper flat.

"Are there any air ducts in your flat?" I asked. When I was younger, my brother and I would listen to our parents when they were discussing gifts through the air ducts in the house.

"Um yeah. Why?" John asked. I sighed and walked out of my flat, up the stairs and into 221B. John came in right after me and we found Sherlock laying on the sofa. His eyes were closed and he looked like he's been laying there all morning.

"Hey sunshine" I said poking him in the chest. He opened his eyes and glared me while John chuckled. I noticed his eyes were an icy blue now, matching his shirt. That's odd... his eyes are usually that indistinguishable color between blue and green.

"You heard everything didn't you?" I asked.

"Yep" He said, closing his eyes and crossing his arms behind his head.

"Hold on, Rachel, you realized he heard us because there's air ducts in our flat?" John asked.

"Yeah, my brother and I would listen to our parents when they were discussing what to get us for Christmas" I explained.

"Brother?" Sherlock asked. I glanced at him but he was muttering something to himself.

"It's always the same mistake" I heard him mumble to himself.

"What mistake Sherlock?" John asked as he watched with an amused expression. Sherlock had covered his face with his arm in possible shame.

"Her brother, John!" Sherlock exclaimed.

"What about my brother?" I asked.

"In your kitchen, there's a framed picture, over a decade old, hand drawn by a child, most likely, since it's written _To: Rachel From: Chrissy_. Has to be a family member because people only keep these kind of things for sentiment. Could be a cousin, sibling most likely. Now why would you keep a picture like that from a sibling? Maybe you two were very close. You mentioned your mother died so I have reason to believe it brought you two together-" He began deducing but I cut him off before he re opened a deep wound.

"What's you point?" I asked, trying my best to push thoughts of my mother's death away.

"Chrissy, could be a nickname, not likely, sister, maybe" Sherlock explained.

"Oh" I finally understood.

"Oh?" John asked.

"My brother's name is Christopher. Chrissy is short for Christopher. He came up with that name when people started insulting him because of his sexuality. He thought it would get the attention away from him and towards his name" I explained.

"So what was the point of that brilliant deduction?" I asked.

"John's sister" Sherlock said.

"He thought I had a brother for the same reason as you. It said Harry Watson on my phone. Harry is short for Harriet" John explained. Right, John's sister is lesbian. It doesn't bother me since one (or two) of my best friends are gay, as well as my own brother. Someday, I should introduce Scott to Christopher.

"Oh" I said.

"Yep" John said as he walked into the kitchen to avoid the awkward tension that was already in the air.

"Even if you heard us, we're still getting you a cake. Might even invite Mrs. Hudson and Lestrade over" I told Sherlock.

"You do that. I'll just leave" Sherlock pointed out.

"It would be a shame Lestrade got a call for a nice murder and you weren't there" I suggested. Sherlock huffed in annoyance.

"If you don't mind me asking... how old are you?" I asked.

"You can deduce that" He pointed out without opening his eyes. I glanced around the room. Maybe there's some University degree that states his birth date or something.

"Um I'm guessing you were born in the 80s" I said. I went with the 80s because Sherlock looked too young to be born in the 70s.

"How did you come up with that?" He asked. Suddenly, I remembered Sherlock had told me about a case where a boy, Carl Powers, drowned in 1989. Sherlock said he was just a kid back then so he could have been around 9.

"The Carl Powers case you told me about. You said you were just a kid in 1989" I explained.

"Your powers of deduction are getting better. Can you figure out the exact year?" He asked.

"No. It's your job to figure everything out exactly" I said. Sherlock smirked and opened his eyes.

"I was born in 1981" Sherlock stated.

"So I was right. You were born in the 80s" I said, happy that my first deduction was correct.

"Happy 31st birthday then" I said. Sherlock smiled at me before closing his eyes. I waited a few moments before I could start annoying him again.

"So what's your favorite icing flavor?"

#####

"JAWN!"

"Yes Sherlock?"

"CASE!"

The detective ran out of his room at the speed of light and slipped into his coat, wrapping his scarf around his neck. I glanced at John who was trying to to laugh at Sherlock's behavior as he put his own coat on.

"I think he's on his time of month" I whispered to John as we headed down the stairs, wrapped him coats and gloves to brave the winter air.

"I heard that" Sherlock called from down the stairs.

"You were supposed to!" I said as I strode past him and onto the cold street. John quickly hailed a cab and we all got on.

"So what's this case then?" John asked as Sherlock gave the address to the cabbie.

"A teacher at boarding school, Michael Williams, has been murdered. He was found in the pool this morning. His body was completely burned" Sherlock explained calmly.

"Why would someone do that?" I asked.

"Perhaps he owed something to powerful people. Maybe he knew something he shouldn't. Either way, he's dead so it's best not dwell on the past" Sherlock stated.

"Sherlock" John warned.

"Not good?" He asked.

"No" I said, looking out the window. Maybe Sherlock and John were used to seeing death but I wasn't. I still haven't grasped the idea that there were people out there who actually enjoyed killing. That is, until I met a man named Jim Moriarty. Just by thinking about him, the faint letters on my arm burned slightly. I kept a straight face even though the pain was nearly unbearable. This hasn't happened since Moriarty had texted me a month ago. It kept burning throughout the whole cab ride to the crime scene. I was relived when we finally arrived, maybe the burning sensation would go away once I was in the winter air?

I followed John out of the cab and immediately noticed the yellow 'crime-scene-do-not-cross' tape around the pool maybe a hundred yards away from the school. It was a big building, quite old as well. I was about to follow John to the crime scene when someone caught my arm. Unfortunately, it was my wounded arm. I turned around and found Sherlock looking at me with a somewhat worried expression.

"Why didn't you tell me?" He asked quietly. I already knew what he was talking about.

"Because John was there and I didn't want him to worry" I said as I tried to wriggle out of his grasp, only causing me more pain.

"Has it hurt before?" Sherlock asked.

"No" I replied. His hand moved from my arm to my hand, his long, slender fingers intertwining with my own.

"Mr. Holmes, aren't you worried of people seeing you holding hands at a crime scene?" I asked sarcastically.

"Not at all" He said as we walked towards John, who was watching us with a hint of amusement.

"If you two are quite finished, Sherlock has to investigate some poor bloke's death"

**So sorry if this was short! It was supposed to be a long chapter but I wanted to post it and write down my idea for my new stories! I've just got so much on plate at the moment. If anyone of you are interested, I've got a War Horse fic (The Major and The City Girl) and a Potter!lock fic (The Hogwarts Mystery) There are only about 2 chapters because I only began writing the stories yesterday. Reviews make me happy!**


	25. Chapter 25

**Guys, please don't hate me! My friend came over so I wasn't able to get hold of my laptop and she's staying at my house till Saturday so I don't know if I'll be able to update but I'll try my best! And I am so sorry, the last chapter was split in 2 (when it was supposed to be a whole) so I am terribly sorry! **

One look at the burned body laying in the very large swimming pool, I already felt sick to my stomach. I find it a bit cruel that a young man was murdered or burned or whatever happened to him, in such a nice place. The school really does live up to the standards of a typical, British mansion. There were marble columns outlining the arched doorways. All in all, the place looked like someone rebuilt the Parthenon with grey bricks and marble columns. I found small bushes of Narcissus around the pool. Sherlock was discussing something with Lestrade and John was watching me with a worried expression.

"Are you alright?" John asked quietly.

"Yeah I'm fine" I said.

"You sure? Not everyone is fit for seeing a dead body" John admitted.

"It's fine. At least there's no blood" I said, reassuring myself mostly.

"Your afraid of blood?" John asked, almost surprised.

"Yep. Hemophobia. I thought Sherlock would've told you all this about me" I stated.

"He knows?" John asked.

"Of course I do. John, you see but you do not observe. You've seen how she refuses to look at the body at a crime scene for fear that there might be blood around it. And something about her mother's death must have triggered this particular phobia" the detective himself said as he walked up to us.

"Sherlock" I warned. He was about to hit a very deep and sensitive nerve.

"So it is something about your mother's death? I thought it was initially your father's death" He added. That's it. All the feelings I had towards Sherlock and the fact that it was his birthday didn't stop me from slapping him straight across the face. The last I saw before I walked away was a surprised John and Sherlock holding his red cheek, eyes wide and mouth forming a perfect 'o'. I glanced down at my hand and saw that his bloody sharp cheekbones had indeed left a mark on my palm. Damn him and those cheekbones.

#####

John had ran after me as soon as I stalked off because after having found a bench hidden by a willow tree right by the pool and the burned body, he had sat right next to me.

"Rachel, you know how he is. He's a bloody stupid git when it comes to these things" John began.

"John, he knows that my parents died. But he still brought it up" I just couldn't believe Sherlock would do that after... after... what was it? A confession of love? No, this is Sherlock Holmes. He doesn't do love. And yet, we've kissed and agreed this would be some sort of relationship. So how could he just bring up the death of my parents?

"If you don't mind me asking, how did they die?" John asked.

"My mum disappeared for a few days when I was 6. After 4 days, they found her body in the forest, bloodied and bashed up" I explained.

"Oh god I'm so sorry" John said.

"My dad killed himself 2 years after because he couldn't take care of my brother and I as well as cope with the grief of my mum's death" I added as a single tear trickled down my cheek. I quickly wiped it away before John noticed.

"You became an orphan at 8 years old!? God, Rachel, if I had known-" He began.

"It's fine, John. It's all fine" I said.

"So where did you go after their death?" John asked.

"Christopher was only 14 so we moved from Dartmoor to Scotland to live with our uncle" I explained. John nodded but he had a concerned expression on his face.

"We leaved with our uncle till Christopher was old enough to be my legal guardian. That's when we got a flat of our own. He was 21 when he turned to drink. I was only 15 and I was taking care of both of us. Finally, he stopped drinking when he met his boyfriend. We managed to get enough money so I could go to Oxford" I explained. I wouldn't tell them the most important part of my life. I couldn't. I never told anyone and I wasn't planning to. Sherlock probably knew but I know he hasn't told anyone.

"Something that cheers me up when Sherlock is being a dick is the fact that everyone thinks he's mad when he's on one of his deductions" John said.

"Like now" he added, pointing at Sherlock who was shouting obscenities and waving his arms around at everyone, calling the police officers idiots. I managed a smile as I saw the traumatized looks on their faces. Lestrade was stepping away from Sherlock as the man made himself look mad. Or madder then he already is.

"Right better see where he's run off to now" John said, standing up as we watched Sherlock run into the school. I stood up as well wiping my wet cheeks.

"Rachel?"

"Yeah?"

"Thanks"

"For what" I asked, as I followed John inside the building, where Sherlock had disappeared too.

"For trusting me with this information. I won't tell anyone, if you don't want me to, of course" John said. I smiled and hugged him before we entered the building. The inside looked just like a museum, with many, large paintings on the walls and sculptures on every corner. The place was quiet, except for the police officers milling around and the faint sound of an ambulance to get the body out of the water. We walked down the quiet halls. There was a door to a classroom every so often. The students' dorms must be on the other side of the school, as well as the teachers'. It's usually easy to find Sherlock. Just following the trail of dead body parts or the sound of crying or even shouting. But everything was quiet now.

"Should we split up?" John asked as I glanced down the long corridor.

"If we don't find him, we go back to the front doors" I said. John nodded and walked off down the corridor. I walked into the opposite direction. Now many of you might think, creepy, old school might be haunted or something. But I don't believe in ghosts. Some people think ghosts are the white, transparent, spirits saying 'boo' to everyone they meet. If ghosts did exist, they would just be souls, refusing to go to the after life and instead roaming old places like this school. I might have had a heart attack and let out a small yelp when someone took my arm and pulled me into a hallway. If this was a ghost, shouldn't his hand just pass through mine!?

My heart stopped racing as soon as I saw Sherlock looking down at me. His cheek was still red. I must have slapped him pretty hard then.

"Rachel, I- I never meant to- I wasn't intending on-" He began, stuttering, but I cut him off.

"It's fine. It's all fine" I said as I began walking away but he stopped me.

"No, it's not. I crossed the line and I-I...I am sorry. Just please don't hate me. I don't think I could bear the thought of any hardship between us and I-" Sherlock rambled all at once. He was looking at me with adorable puppy dogs eyes. Don't give in... Don't give in... Damn it!

"Sherlock, I could hate you more but I couldn't love you any less" I said softly.

"You love me...?" He asked quietly.

"Of course I do, you idiot" I stated. Sherlock chuckled lightly. I stood on my toes and kissed his cheek. Sherlock turned his head so my kiss landed on his lips. He deepened the kiss by pinning me against the cold wall. Sherlock smiled into the kiss as my hands wove around in his soft curls. What was a light kiss became something heated and passionate. I pulled away before anything got intimate. Too soon.

"Your still an idiot" I said. We were both breathing rather heavily as we walked back down the corridor and found John looking at a misshapen sculpture. Right, just act natural. Oh how John would laugh if he knew I had just snogged Sherlock Holmes at a crime scene.

"You found him!" John exclaimed, walking up to us.

"Right come on, I've found something" Sherlock said, panting lightly as he strode past us.

"Hold on, why are you out of breath?" John asked, walking a bit faster to match Sherlock's long strides.

"I'll leave you to your deductions" He muttered. John stared at Sherlock with wide eyes. I laughed at John before noticing something out of the corner of my eye.

"Sherlock. Look" I said pointing to the small, black can, hidden behind a suit of armor. The detective crouched down and picked up the small object, observing it with calculating eyes.

"What is it?" John asked.

"Benzene" He stated, showing us the can. There were small symbols which showed to be careful with use.

"Why is a can of benzene hidden here?" I asked.

"Benzene is highly flammable" Sherlock stated. He sniffed the can and narrowed his eyes.

"Odorless" He added.

"Could this have anything to do with Michael Williams?" John asked.

"Obviously" Sherlock said before walking towards the front doors. We quickly followed him as he headed towards the body the medics had fished out of the pool.

"Did Sherlock apologize?" John asked me quietly as we watched Sherlock check the dead man's clothes.

"Uh yeah" I said. A brief glimpse of Sherlock and I kissing rather heatedly passed through my mind. It's still an apology.

"So why were you two out of breath when you came in?" John asked, eyeing me rather suspiciously.

"No reason" I lied. John chuckled lightly.

"I've been living with Sherlock Holmes for more then a year, I can deduce some things too" John said.

"His clothes are sprayed with benzene!" Sherlock suddenly exclaimed.

"How can you tell?" I asked.

"While you two were busy being sentimental, I had gone to his room, checked everything. Michael Williams had a rug in his room. Could have provided an electric shock if he touched anything conductible for electricity" Sherlock stated.

"If his clothes were sprayed with benzene, he would have ignited as soon as the shock of electricity hit him" Sherlock finished.

"So this was a murder?" John asked.

"Obviously, he wouldn't have caught fire randomly" I said.

"So who's the killer ?" John asked.

"History teacher" Sherlock stated. John and I gave him quizzical expressions.

"That misshapen sculpture you were looking at John. It belongs to the history teacher. Said so on the name plate. Now why would it be misshapen? Maybe Michael Williams and the history teacher got into a fight and knocked over the sculpture? This could have triggered some kind of anger on the history teacher's part so he killed Michael Williams for revenge on ruining the sculpture" Sherlock deduced.

"You got all that, from a misshapen sculpture and benzene?" Lestrade asked, walking up to us.

"Go and arrest him, Detective Inspector. It's what you do best" Sherlock said. Lestrade bid us goodbye and walked back into the school.

"This was dull" Sherlock admitted as we walked back to the main road.

"Then why did you take the case?" John asked.

"I was bored" He said. I laughed lightly before I heard footsteps behind us.

"Sherlock!" Lestrade called. The detective turned around with an exasperated expression.

"I am no help if you've forgotten how to arrest criminals" Sherlock said.

"No not that. Happy birthday mate" Lestrade said, smiling.

"Oh god. Did Mycroft tell you as well?" Sherlock asked.

"Sherlock, I've known you for 7 years. I think I would know when you birthday was" Lestrade protested.

"Your lying. You've been reviewing my records" Sherlock stated. My eyes widened. Why would Sherlock have criminal records?

"Happy birthday anyways!" Lestrade called after the detective, who strode off, an angry look about him. I'll ask him about those records later.

"You've known Lestrade for 7 years?" John asked as I hailed a cab.

"Yes he, er, found me when I was in my last year at University" Sherlock said, getting into the cab.

"What do you mean found you?" I asked as we drove off.

"Doesn't matter" Sherlock said coldly. I glanced at John who merely shrugged. What was Sherlock hiding?

**This case was a bit shorter then expected... So, I'm guessing that the whole Sherlock birthday thing would take place over 3 chapters (not more hopefully) instead of 1 like I intended. Please don't hate me. I'm really disorganized so everything is not where it's supposed to be. Anyways, reviews make me happy!**


	26. Chapter 26

**School is starting in 2 weeks so I'll be updating mostly on weekends, maybe sometimes on weekdays but I doubt it. Just telling you guys in advance :) And Sherlock may seem slightly OC but that's on purpose because he still feels guilty about what happened in the last chapter... And in case your all wondering, Jack is Orlando Bloom :) Enjoy. **

I've never been one for baking but I think, at the moment since I had set nothing on fire, everything was going great. Sherlock had informed me his favorite icing flavor was vanilla so I intended to coat the small cake with vanilla icing. I was surprised Sherlock had even agreed to celebrate his own birthday. Maybe it was because John and I were being so persistent? Or because he felt guilty about bringing up the death of my parents during the case that afternoon?

#####

"Sherlock"

"What?"

"Your glaring at a cake"

"So?"

"Are you expecting it to sprout arms and legs and do a flip or give you a witty retort?"

Sherlock huffed and stopped glaring at the slice of cake in front of him. Instead, he was staring out the window, possible in deep thought or just watching the rain pound against the windows. London weather is extremely bipolar. This morning, it was sunny and now there's a bloody storm outside. I sat next to him on the couch and his slice of cat sat, untouched, on the coffee table before us.

"Just admit it, Sherlock, your happy we're celebrating your birthday" John pointed out from the kitchen.

"I've never celebrated my birthday before" He mumbled. My phone pinged with a new text. I fished my phone out of my pocket and read the text.

_**Last time we celebrated Sherlock's birthday, he was 18**_

_**-MH**_

"Oh did Mycroft just text you to tell you when I last celebrated my birthday?" Sherlock asked sarcastically.

"Yes, he did, in fact" I retorted.

"Well I haven't celebrated my birthday in a long time" Sherlock said.

"Why?" I asked him quietly. He looked away from the window and glanced at me.

"Whenever it was someone's birthday at my home as a child, they would have to stuff their face into the cake. So how about it Sherlock?" John suggested. I laughed at the thought of Sherlock with icing all over his face.

"I am absolutely _not_ doing that" Sherlock stated.

"Rachel, what are you-"

Too late. I had already stood up, spoon full of icing.

"I think you've got some icing on your nose, Sherlock" I told him as John began laughing.

"You are insufferable" He said. I stuck my tongue out at him and he just chuckled, smiling that dimpled smile. And he looked... happy.

"Aww you look cute with icing on your nose" I pointed out.

"Did you just call me _cute_?" Sherlock asked. John snickered.

"You heard me" I said.

"John! She called me _cute_! I am many things but I am not cute!" Sherlock exclaimed.

"Yes, you are many things Sherlock" John sighed.

"Never thought Sherlock Holmes and cute would be in the same sentence" John added.

"It was a compliment, idiot" I told Sherlock before kissing his cheek. His cold expression softened and he smiled at me. He's been smiling a lot lately.

"I don't get it" John said from the kitchen. Sherlock and I both looked at him in confusion.

"How are you two not together yet!?" John asked.

"Should we tell him?" Sherlock asked.

"Tell me what?" John asked.

"Sherlock's pregnant!' I exclaimed. 'Tell him, Sherlock" I said before laughing at John's expression.

"Rachel and I _are_ together" Sherlock stated.

"Your joking, right?" John asked.

"Nope" I said.

"So this afternoon, when you two were out of breath..." John began.

"Never thought I'd see the day where Sherlock Holmes was snogging at a crime scene!" John exclaimed as realization hit him. I glanced at Sherlock who had gone rosy cheeked.

"Well I'm happy for you two" John added.

"How about you, Sherlock, are you happy?" I asked him, nudging his shoulder.

"Obviously" Sherlock said, wrapping a strong arm around my shoulders.

"So when did this happen?" John asked, gesturing at Sherlock's arm around me.

"New Year's" I said. John nodded and turned back to his cake.

"What about you, are you happy?" Sherlock asked me quietly.

"Yes I am" I stated. I had my best friend and my (what was Sherlock exactly?) boyfriend next to me, so obviously I'm happy. Sherlock smiled, leaning closer to me.

"Aha no, get that off your face before you plan on kissing me" I told him, pointing at the icing on his face and lightly pushing him away. Sherlock chuckled and stood up, walking out of the living room. A clap of thunder outside made me jump slightly, at least not before there was a knock on the door. Who could be out during a bloody storm?

"I'll get that, shall I?" I suggested as John kept eating the apparently delicious cake. I walked out of the flat and down the stairs. There were more claps of thunder and a few streaks of lighting were seen through the window. I opened the door and found a soaking wet man standing on the doorstep. Even though he looked a bit creepy with the hood covering his face, I ushered him out of the rain.

"How can I help you?" I asked the man as I closed the door. He pulled his hood down and revealed a face I most certainly did _not_ want to see.

"What are you doing here?" I asked coldly.

"2 reasons actually" Jack said.

"What might they be?" I asked.

"One: to apologize" He said.

"I think it's a bit too late to apologize" I pointed out.

"But you don't understand" He protested.

"I understand perfectly, you cheated on me. That's it, now get out" I said.

"I didn't cheat! That was my friend from Ireland. She's the reason I've been busy those nights. She's an alcoholic and I was helping her with rehab because she's a dear friend. I guess she fancied me because she kissed me!" Jack explained.

"How do I know your not lying?" I asked.

"That's my second reason. You live with that detective don't you? The tall bloke with the weird name. First off I need his help, and he can prove I'm not lying" Jack said.

"Why do you need Sherlock's help?" I asked.

"Murder at the art gallery" He said.

"Fine" I said bitterly. I ushered him upstairs to 221B.

"Rachel-" John began but stopped talking as soon as he saw Jack.

"Why is _he_ here?" Sherlock asked, almost annoyed as he strode into the room.

"There's been a murder at the art gallery I work at" Jack explained.

"How do you know it's a murder?" Sherlock asked him as he observed him.

"Because the dead man had a gun laying next to him, but he had no wounds whatsoever" Jack added.

"Did you call the police?" Sherlock asked.

"No, I came here straight away because Rachel always said how brilliant you are, so I thought you would be able to figure this out" Jack said. Sherlock's eyes briefly met mine and I looked away as my cheeks flushed.

"But you came here for another reason. What is it?" Sherlock asked.

"It's nothing, Sherlock" I told him.

"Well it clearly is _something._ You just don't want me to know" Sherlock said. I glared at him before walking out of the room, down to my own flat. I don't know what caused all these emotions but I just had to get out of there. I sat on my couch and stared off into space.

I don't know how long I had sat there but after awhile, there was a knock on my door. Then I heard the _snick_ of the lock sliding open. Sherlock walked into the room, hands in his pockets, observing me.

"Well, he wasn't lying" Sherlock stated, briefly glancing around the room.

"Ah, your ignoring me now?" Sherlock asked.

"Rachel?" He said softly, crouching down in front of me. I made myself look at him. He was giving me the puppy dog eyes. God damn it, how am I supposed to stay mad at him when he does that!?

"Darling, I am sorry if I did anything to upset you, especially today. It's just not my day is it? I am deeply sorry-" He began rambling. I cut him off by leaning forwards and pressing my lips to his. I pulled away after a few moments.

"First time anyone told me to shut up by kissing me" Sherlock pointed out. I managed a smile at his lame joke.

"Did you really tell Jack I was brilliant?" Sherlock asked curiously.

#####

"You didn't touch anything when you saw the body?" Sherlock asked Jack as we stood by the man's body.

"No" Jack replied.

"Good" Sherlock stated, crouching by the body and pulling out his magnifying glass. John observed the body just like I did till Jack pulled me away from them.

"Why won't you talk to me?" He asked as Sherlock and John were out of earshot.

"Because I have nothing to say" I retorted.

"Do you believe I didn't lie?" He asked.

"Yes, because I trust Sherlock's word" I said.

"So you'll take me back?" He asked. No, obviously not, I'm with Sherlock! Speaking of the detective, he was standing by the body as John examined it, except he was watching me intently.

"There is a dead man laying on the floor, so if you don't mind, please discuss the fact that she doesn't want to take you back elsewhere" Sherlock told Jack before I could answer. Sherlock smiled at Jack who sent deadly glares to the detective.

"Your friend there is a bastard" Jack spat, pointing at Sherlock. I was about to reply something a long the lines of 'look who's talking' but I decided against it.

"At least he's right" I said.

"About what?" Jack asked.

"That I don't want to take you back" I told him. Jack looked surprised when I smiled at him and walked back to John and Sherlock.

"You handled that well" John said as he watched Jack out of the corner of his eye.

"I had a bit of help. And Sherlock, your very sure of yourself"

"Hmm?"

"How did you know I didn't want to take him back?"

"Would you like to know all the facts?"

"Yes"

"Right, I'll start from the beginning, shall I? When we met, you would always blush when you were physical close to me. You had agreed to go to that Chinese circus with me, knowing it was for a case. Before your first date with Jack, you were disappointed that we didn't kiss. Before Christmas up until the present day, your pupils always dilate when were together" Sherlock deduced. John snickered as soon as I blushed from Sherlock's deduction. Bloody idiot.

"So, how was he murdered?" I asked, changing the subject.

"Poison" Sherlock stated.

"That explains the lack of wounds" John added.

"What about the gun?" I asked.

"Protection" Sherlock said.

"Someone was after him?" I asked.

"Apparently they got him. He's got some kind of foam in his mouth. Could have only been produced by poison in his system" John explained.

"Right, Sherlock, take us through it" I said, still not understanding anything. Sherlock sighed and glanced at the body.

"Professional man, going by the state of his clothes. Banker, most likely, hence the suit. He's got mud on his shoes and a bit on the back of his trousers. So he's been running. Now why would a banker be running around with a gun? He could have possibly stolen money, maybe he knew something he shouldn't. My money's on the latter. So if he's a banker and he knew something he shouldn't, maybe it's about a certain client? Now the gun, he must have been threatened to be carrying around a weapon. Nothing has been taken from him except for his wallet. Could be a thief, could even be Jack but I'm positive it was the killer. Now why would he be here if he was poisoned? That means the poison was a slow working process, probably drank or ate something that had been contaminated with it. He's dead about an hour or so, that means the poison reached him 2 hours ago. 1 hour to spread in his system, another hour to kill him properly. This part of the gallery is empty, that's why Jack, an employee found him. Now we need to find the killer and finish this neat, little case" Sherlock said all too quickly.

"Sherlock" I said.

"Yes?" He asked.

"There's a man laying dead, that's not neat" I told him.

"Right" He said.

"Oh and Jack, I wouldn't leave if I we're you, Detective Inspector Lestrade from Scotland Yard would like a few words with you" Sherlock said as Jack began walking down the hall. He groaned and walked back to us. Sherlock smirked and began walking around the hall, eyes fixed on the floor.

"Our killer is a woman" He stated.

"What?" John asked, surprised.

"Mud prints, exactly the same as on the body. Except the footprint are from high heeled shoes" He stated, crouching down and pulling out his magnifying glass.

"Size 6. About 5'7" Sherlock added.

"You got that from a foot print?" I asked him, clearly amazed.

"Obviously" He said.

"That's really brilliant" I told him.

"Rachel, I think you just inflated his ego" John said.

"Right then, let's call Lestrade"


	27. Chapter 27

**Writer's block is no fun :( anyway's I've been out of ideas lately so I couldn't update ****_any_**** of my stories and I deeply apologize. The bad thing with me is that I tend to plan ahead and not for the present so everything for other cases, I've already got planned. I just don't know what to write about at the moment so I guess we'll just be getting back to Irene's case... Or are we? Enjoy :)**

"I think you broke a record today"

"Hmm?"

"Solving 2 cases in less then 24 hours. Must be a record"

"These cases we're dull. Child's play even. Obviously I solved them in less then 24 hours"

"Sherlock. 2 men have died, that's not dull"

Sherlock huffed and closed his eyes. Ever since we got home, he was either insulting Jack or laying on the couch, or the floor, or upside down in his armchair. I don't know how he could sit with his head and shoulders on the floor while his body is sprawled on the couch. At the moment, he was laying on the floor, in front of the fire. I was compelled to kick him a few times (since I sat in his armchair, across from John) when he had insulted my taste in men. My smart retort was that he had just insulted himself.

"What about the Irene Adler case?" John asked, briefly looking up from his newspaper. He glanced down at Sherlock who was sprawled on the floor, arms crossed behind his head, looking absolutely normal... for once.

"What about it?" Sherlock asked, not opening his eyes. He has a tendency to slip into his Mind Palace when he's got his eyes closed. I noticed that when I thought he was asleep but kept 'hmm' ing to everything I said.

"Still staying out of it?" I asked curiously.

"There's nothing to stay out of. She faked her death, I've got the camera phone. That's it" He explained.

"Did you unlock it?" John asked.

"No" Sherlock stated. John gave me a don't-pry-or-he'll-have-a-fit look. I nodded and went back to quietly observing Sherlock as he lay there. I never noticed how pale he really was. The blazing fire gave his skin a sort of golden glow. Since the day I met him, I've always had 2 opinions on him, and I'm glad they haven't changed:

1. He's a really good looking bloke.

2. He's bloody mad and he's going to either get himself killed, or get me killed.

I think John has got the same opinions on Sherlock. He just won't admit it.

#####

Days turned to weeks. We caught the killer from the gallery. Apparently it was a domestic murder. Sherlock had a small smirk when I told him Jack will have to go to court for being a suspect in the crime. I went to the Maroon 5 concert with Scott, who had insisted on meeting Sherlock before we left but, thank god, the detective was nowhere to be seen (He was probably hiding from Scott somewhere in the flat). Scott had bombarded John with questions about Sherlock (something along the lines of "if your not gay, why do you live with such a good looking man?"). Weeks turned to months and Sherlock was as bored as ever, sometimes even coming over to my flat when John was busy. It didn't really surprise me how hyperactive Sherlock was when he was bored. The man was either bouncing off the walls or falling asleep on my couch. Strange how that works. After a while, I manage to convince him that sleeping once in a while was fine. That lasted about 5 seconds because he hadn't slept for a week after that. But my point was proven when he, quite literally, collapsed. Just stood up from his armchair only to stumble and fall onto the couch and fall asleep. I think Sherlock finds couches more comfortable than beds.

#####

I sat drinking tea in the kitchen of 221B when John walking through the door, carrying bags of groceries. Sherlock didn't bother to help his flatmate. After having helped John put away the food that Sherlock obviously wouldn't eat, I watched almost curiously as the detective narrowed his eyes slightly and observed the open window in the hallway. Right, he's definitely gotten madder. He slowly made his way towards his room.

"We have a client" Sherlock called from his bedroom. He's lost it.

"What? In your bedroom?" John mocked. He glanced at me and I shrugged.

"Better go see what he's talking about" I told John, taking another sip of my tea. He nodded and walking down the hall.

"Oh" I heard John say. Curiosity, taking over, I jumped out of my chair and found the boys standing by the door, looking down at something. The've both lost it. I peered over Sherlock's shoulder (Having to stand on tip toe since he's so bloody tall). My eyes widened as soon as I found someone I really _didn't_ want to see. Especially in Sherlock's bed. At least she was fully clothed.

#####

I was never one to hate someone before I got to know them, but Irene Adler just _irked_ me. I really can't explain it. Maybe it was the fact that she was wearing Sherlock's dressing gown. Or that she was smiling at me playfully. Or that she was _here_. Or that she was sitting in Sherlock's armchair. He never lets anyone sit in his chair. Well, except me. Or maybe it was because when I first met her, she took her clothes off to impress Sherlock. And frankly, I believe it worked. I stopped dwelling on the past and continued glaring at her from my seat on the couch. John coughed from his seat across Sherlock at the table, causing Irene and I to look at him.

"So, who's after you?" Sherlock asked, trying to get the tension out of the air as much as John.

"People who want to kill me" Irene said.

"Who's that?" He asked.

"Killers" She stated.

"It would help if you were a tiny bit more specific" I said, crossing my arms. John chuckled and shook his head.

"So you faked your own death in order to get ahead of them" Sherlock continued.

"It worked for a while" She protested.

"Except you let John know that your were alive, and therefore me" He retorted.

"I knew _you'd_ keep my secret" Irene said.

"_You_ couldn't?" Sherlock asked.

"But you _did_, didn't you? Where's my camera phone?" She asked.

"It's not here. We're not stupid" I stated/

"Then what have you done with it? If they've guessed you've got it, they'll be watching you" Irene said.

"If they've been watching me, they'll know that I took a safety deposit box at a bank on the Strand a few months ago" Sherlock explained.

"I need it" Irene said, almost pleading.

"Well, we can't just go and get it, can we?"

"Molly Hooper. She could collect it, take it to Bart's; then one of your homeless network could bring it here, leave it in the café, and one of the boys downstairs could bring it up the back" John suggested.

"Very good, John. Excellent plan, with intelligent precautions" Sherlock said, smiling.

"Thank you" John picked up the phone but sighed as soon as Sherlock pulled the camera phone out of his blazer pocket. He is unbelievable.

"So what do you keep on here – in general, I mean?" Sherlock asked.

"Pictures, information, anything I might find useful" Irene stated.

"What, for blackmail?" I asked.

"For protection. I make my way in the world; I misbehave. I like to know people will be on my side exactly when I need them to be" Irene explained.

"So how do you acquire this information?" Sherlock asked.

"I told you – I misbehave" She said. I grimaced at her words. Couldn't she have picked a different profession? I'm sure she'd make a decent librarian.

"But you've acquired something that's more danger than protection. Do you know what it is?" Sherlock asked.

"Yes, but I don't understand it" She replied.

"I assumed. Show me" Sherlock said. Irene held out her hand for her phone but Sherlock held it out of her reach.

"The passcode" He said. She's still holding her hand out, and eventually Sherlock sat forward and handded her the phone. She held the phone so he can't see the screen or the keypad as she typed in four characters. The phone beeped warningly.

"It's not working" She stated.

"No, because it's a duplicate that I had made, into which you've just entered the numbers one oh five eight" Sherlock explained, standing up and pulling out the real camera phone from where he had hid it in his arm chair.

"I assumed you'd choose something more specific than that but, um, thanks anyway" He said as he entered the passcode. He stared at the phone in disbelief when it beeped, still not unlocking.

"I _told_ you that camera phone was my life. I know when it's in my hand" Irene admitted.

"Oh, you're rather good"

"Your not so bad"

At this point, I was ready to either storm out of the room, or something much more irrational. John's eyes darted between my vexed expression and the obvious eyesex between my _boyfriend_ and a dominatix. Now I get it. That venomous feeling in my gut. Jealousy. Nasty thing, that is. I stared out the window, probably burning a hole through it with my glare as I saw out of the corner of my eye, Sherlock give Irene the camera phone.

"Hamish" John suddenly said. The three of us look at him in confusion.

"John Hamish Watson – just if you were looking for baby names" He added. I glare at him before noticing the confusion on Sherlock's face.

"There was a man – an MOD official. I knew what he liked" Irene began, walking a short distance away from the boys so they can't see her screen or keypad as she types in the real passcode. Sherlock has already sat back down in his chair at the table. I briefly glanced at him and noticed he was watching me, even though Irene was speaking.

"One of the things he liked was showing off. He told me this email was going to save the world. He didn't know it, but I photographed it" She continued, handing Sherlock the camera phone.

"He was a bit tied up at the time. It's a bit small on that screen – can you read it?" She asked.

"Yes" He simply said, narrowing his eyes and staring at the picture on the screen. I stand up and sit down in John's armchair, watching Sherlock as his eyes darted from one side of the photo to another.

"A code, obviously. I had one of the best cryptographers in the country take a look at it – though he was mostly upside down, as I recall. Couldn't figure it out" Irene admitted. Sherlock leaned forward, concentrating on the screen.

"What can _you _do?" She asked Sherlock, leaning over his shoulder. I clenched my hands into fists and turned away.

"Go on. Impress a girl. Unless you already have" Irene said, her eyes briefly landing on me. Sherlock stared at the screen for about a second as John took a sip of his tea and Irene leaned closer to him. It seemed he was completely oblivious to the fact that she had just kissed him on the cheek. But I wasn't. First, it was her naked impression on him, then the eyesex and now the kiss. I think if I didn't have more self control over jealousy, I would have exploded with a very colorful language towards her.

"There's a margin for error but I'm pretty sure there's a Seven Forty-Seven leaving Heathrow tomorrow at six thirty in the evening for Baltimore. Apparently it's going to save the world. Not sure how that can be true but give me a moment; I've only been on the case for eight seconds" Sherlock said all too quickly. He glanced at mine and John's blank faces, then at Irene who was still leaning over his shoulder.

"Oh, come on. It's not code. These are seat allocations on a passenger jet. Look: there's no letter 'I' because it can be mistaken for a '1'; no letters past 'K' – the width of the plane is the limit. The numbers always appear randomly and not in sequence but the letters have little runs of sequence all over the place – families and couples sitting together. Only a Jumbo is wide enough to need the letter 'K' or rows past fifty-five, which is why there's always an upstairs. There's a row thirteen, which eliminates the more superstitious airlines. Then there's the style of the flight number – zero zero seven – that eliminates a few more; and assuming a British point of origin, which would be logical considering the original source of the information and assuming from the increased pressure on you lately that the crisis is imminent, the only flight that matches all the criteria and departs within the week is the six thirty to Baltimore tomorrow evening from Heathrow Airport" He deduced. He stood up and glanced down at Irene who was staring at him with admiration.

"Please don't feel obliged to tell me that was remarkable or amazing. John and Rachel have expressed the same thought in every possible variant available to the English language" Sherlock stated.

"I would have you right here on this desk until you begged for mercy twice" And by then, I had enough. I stormed out of the room and down the stairs.I felt their eyes on me the whole time. I took my coat and phone from my flat then left the building, closing the front door a bit too loudly.

Yes, I know, I was being irrational but for Christ's sake! How could I stay there after what I had just witnessed. No one bothered to stop her! And John, with his stupid comment about bloody baby names. Hamish was a cute name but how could John, of all people, do that? We're they all playing some joke on me? Maybe the three of them got together and agreed _"Let's see how long it takes Rachel to crack!"_. Only 3 months ago, almost the same thing happened with Jack. God why does this always happen to me? First my fiance died of cancer, then my new boyfriend cheated on me and my current boyfriend is too innocent to understand what had just happened. Wrapping my coat tighter around me, I walked down the empty street to the only place I knew someone would understand me. Even if they would be busy laughing at my irrational behavior.

#####

"Rachel, what are you doing here?"

"I didn't really know where to go"

"What happened?"

"Uh a lot of things"

"Right, come in"

"Thanks Scotty"

#####

After I had told Scott what happened, obviously excluding the parts about the case, I had a few texts from both Sherlock and John. I ignored the texts as I sipped the warm tea Scott had made. I'm glad I had a friend like Scott, because he had listened very carefully to what I had explained. I knew if I talked to John, he would have said the same thing as Scott said.

"I think you should talk to Sherlock" Scott finally said. My eyes widened as his words hit my ears. Even if I did talk to him, what would I say? Maybe I'll tell him _"Hey, I just want to tell you that your very sexual conversation with Irene Adler made me uncomfortable! Glad we had this talk"_. No, I couldn't do that. But maybe I'll think of something on the way back to Baker Street. My phone dinged with a new message. I was sure it was either from John or Sherlock but my eyes widened at the initials.

_**My little brother has gotten himself into a bit of trouble. A car is outside to take you to my office. We've got a lot to discuss and I thought Sherlock would take it better with you there**_

_**-MH**_

I'm gone for a few hours and Sherlock gets into trouble. Nothing's changed.

**I know that in most OC stories, Sherlock's girlfriend or wife or lover, ect. usually has some conflicts with Irene Adler. But the ones I've read, that usually happens during the end, with the 'love is a disadvantage' and the flirting and stuff but I thought I'd bring it up a bit earlier. So if you hate this and want me to change it, review and comment your opinions!**


	28. Chapter 28

**I'm starting school on Tuesday so the updates are going to be weekly. I'll try to update every weekend, since I have difficulties in school (surprising since I'm a write, haha). I am terribly sorry if I don't update some weeks. But I'll try to update as much as I can! Right then, enjoy this chapter :)**

I really wasn't surprised that Sherlock managed to get himself into trouble. I was gone, what, 4 hours? Just a few bloody hours and he's already gone and done something. John must have been on a date, since he wouldn't have let Sherlock do anything stupid. The man does that when John and I aren't looking. I didn't even think about John leaving Sherlock alone with Irene for a few hours. Ok, I did think about it but I didn't dwell on it too much because Mycroft already sent one of his cars to get me. Why did he need me to come anyways? It's not like anything I say has an impact on Sherlock. That's John's job. I just couldn't help but ponder about what Sherlock has done, this time.

It was a few minutes till the car pulled up in front of the Diogenes Club. Why Mycroft spent his days there, I did not know. I was escorted to Mycroft's office as soon as I got out of the sleek, black car. I heard voices on the other side of the office door. Hmm, wonder what they could be discussing. I was led into the office and my eyes narrowed as soon as I saw _her_ sitting there. I was never one to be dramatic, but honestly, I couldn't resist with all this jealousy bubbling inside of me. Mycroft and Irene Adler were sitting at the table while Sherlock sat in an armchair by the fire, sulking.

"Off you pop and talk to people" Irene said just as I walked in. It seems no one has noticed me come in, except for the curly haired detective, whom I really didn't feel like speaking to at the moment.

"You've been very ... thorough. I wish our lot were half as good as you" Mycroft said, nodding to me as he noticed me come in.

"I can't take all the credit. Had a bit of help" Irene admitted, glancing at Sherlock.

"Oh, Jim Moriarty sends his love" She added, looking directly at me. My arm pricked in pain but I ignored it as best as I could.

"Rachel, please take a seat my dear" Mycroft said, offering me a smile as he gestured to the armchair next to Sherlock. Avoiding the detective's eyes, I sat down in the armchair and scooted to side away from him.

"Rachel, I-" Sherlock began quietly but Irene cut him off as she continued speaking to Mycroft.

"I had all this stuff, never knew what to do with it. Thank God for the consultant criminal. Gave me a lot of advice about how to play the Holmes boys. D'you know what he calls you? The Ice Man... and the Virgin" She said, looking at Sherlock briefly. I glanced at him too, and managed to smirk when he looked away, cheeks tainted a rosy pink.

"Didn't even ask for anything. I think he just likes to cause trouble. Now _that's_ my kind of man" She added. I huffed, hoping she wasn't going to start talking about her _line of work_. I glanced at Sherlock and found his brow furrowed, eyes closed. He was thinking, and quite deeply.

"And here you are, the dominatrix who brought a nation to its knees" Mycroft stated, with an annoyed sigh. Suddenly, Sherlock's eyes snap open. I could practically see the gears in his brain, turning at incredible speeds.

"Nicely played" Mycroft added, standing up. This went quicker than I thought. In all honesty, I don't even know why Mycroft had brought me here. Sherlock hasn't said a word since I arrived, so my presence was obviously not needed. Mycroft and Irene both turned to leave but Sherlock stopped them.

"No"

"Sorry?" Irene asked, turning around and facing him.

"I said no. _Very_ very close, but no" He stated, standing up. Right, he's lost it. Again.

"You got carried away. The game was too elaborate. You were enjoying yourself too much" He said, walking towards her. I glanced at the door. This might be my time for a dramatic exit, again.

"No such thing as too much" She protested calmly.

"Oh, enjoying the thrill of the chase is fine, craving the distraction of the game – I sympathize entirely – but sentiment? Sentiment is a chemical defect found in the losing side" Sherlock explained. My eyes widened slightly. What was he saying...?

"Sentiment? What are you talking about?" Irene asked, just as confused as I was, but for an entirely different reason.

"You" He simply said. I scooted to the edge of my chair, ready to bolt.

"Oh please, Rachel, do stay. We wouldn't want another dramatic exit" Irene told me before turning back to Sherlock. I controlled myself and bit my lip to keep myself from offering her a very colorful language.

"Oh dear God. Look at the poor man. You don't actually think I was interested in you? Why? Because you're the great Sherlock Holmes, the clever detective in the funny hat? No, you've already charmed someone else with that brain of yours" Irene said. I was compelled between blushing and wondering what she was implying. Did Sherlock have feelings for her? It was really confusing because he was a bloody sociopath and the little event that had caused my going to Scott's flat.

"No" Sherlock said softly. I was completely lost now and I didn't want to be. I wanted, no, I needed to know what was going on. I turned away as Sherlock stepped closer to her, half an inch of distance between them.

"Because I took your pulse. Elevated; your pupils dilated" I heard him say quietly. I was expecting some declaration of love towards Irene from his part. But what was he proving? That she had feelings for...him? Bloody hell, this is secondary school all over again.

"I imagine John Watson thinks love's a mystery to me but the chemistry is incredibly simple, and very destructive" Sherlock stated. Well that's it then. That's it of what I thought was a relationship with Sherlock Holmes. But who was I kidding? This is Sherlock Holmes, he doesn't do love, he doesn't do relationships. I'm surprised he even keeps John as a friend. Maybe we're all just experiments. Toys from a toy box that he just plays with then throws back to the depths of the box.

"When we first met, you told me that disguise is always a self-portrait. How true of you: the combination to your safe – your measurements; but this ... this is far more intimate. This is your heart... and you should _never_ let it rule your head" Sherlock added.

"You could have chosen any random number and walked out of here today with everything you've worked for... but you just couldn't resist it, could you? I've always assumed that love is a dangerous disadvantage ... _Thank_ you for the final proof" It felt like some one kicked me in the gut. Did he just say that? Yes, he definitely just said that. I felt a tear escape my eye and trickle down my cheek. No, not now.

"Everything I said. It's not real. I was just playing the game" Irene protested in a hushed voice.

"I know. And this is just losing" I heard the clicking of buttons and then the sound of a phone being unlocked. At least he's unlocked the bloody camera phone.

"There you are, brother. I hope the contents make up for any inconvenience I may have caused you tonight" Sherlock said.

"I'm certain they will" Mycroft assured him.

"Well, if this is over, I'll be going then. Thank you, Mycroft, for bringing me here and making me listen to Sherlock's very detailed and explanatory statement" I said, standing up and quickly wiping some tears away. Sherlock looked confused and Mycroft just had a guilty look on his face. That's something I've never seen on the Holmes brothers' before. I walked up to Sherlock, a few tears trickling down my cheeks.

"Your a bastard" I spat before storming out of the room, just like I had a few hours ago. Wasn't it bad enough I had to witness what went on between Sherlock and Irene, but now hear Sherlock's declaration of how love is a chemical defect and bloody disadvantage. I should have expected this from him. He is, after all, Sherlock Holmes.

#####

**3rd person POV**

Who could understand why the elder Holmes called his brother back after Irene Adler had been sent away. He never felt the need to lecture his brother, for that was John's duty, but he was feeling slightly responsible for the situation.

"What do you want, Mycroft?" Sherlock asked, walking back into the office with a vexed expression.

"Have a seat, dear brother" Mycroft offered.

"I already unlocked the camera phone, what more do you want?" Sherlock asked, sitting across his older brother and drumming his fingers on the table impatiently.

"It's not about the case. This is an entirely different matter that I hoped never to discuss with you" Mycroft stated. Sherlock cocked his head to the side in confusion.

"I never thought these words would leave my mouth, but Sherlock Holmes, are you so daft and oblivious to the fact that 2 women left this office in tears because of you?" Mycroft asked, his voice rising slightly. Sherlock stared at his brother with wide eyes. Well, this was a new conversation topic.

"What are you going on about Mycroft?" Sherlock asked impatiently.

"I know about your little affair with miss Levine. After what you said tonight, I deduce that affair is over" Mycroft stated. His little brother was a bloody genius, but in this area, he was as daft as a pole.

"What I said-What?" Sherlock asked, entirely confused now.

"I don't believe it was wise of you to say love was worthless. Deducing from her reaction, I believe she deeply cared for you" He explained as if talking to a toddler.

"I know you have some sort of feelings for her, otherwise you wouldn't be, _that_ intimate with her so keep this in that brilliant mind of yours: You hurt her, Sherlock" Mycroft said the last part a bit softly. The words seemed to echo inside the younger Holmes' head. Well of course he cared for Rachel. He obviously wouldn't be in this mess if he didn't. Of course he cared for the insufferable girl who teased him constantly and called him an idiot. She was always there for him, even if she thought he was ignoring her. How could he ignore her playing with his hair just to get his attention. How could he ignore her when she called him _cute_? She kissed him and she cared for him and she... loved him. Now what had he done? He hurt her. Sherlock Holmes rarely felt guilt, but the guilt hit him like bullet wound, painful and annoying. He felt guilty for hurting Rachel. _H__is_ Rachel. The insufferable girl whom he... loved. Had he ruined all of that with a few sentences? Sherlock leaped out of his chair and ran out of the office, tearing down the corridors and bursting through the door, hailing a cab and making his way to Baker Street.

Meanwhile, Mycroft Holmes sat back in his chair, an amused smile on his face. It seems someone finally managed to break the cold detective. He'd seen that look on his face before. Many times. The first he saw that look on his brother's face was a few months ago, when he had come to Mycroft for help to get Rachel back from Moriarty. Mycroft Holmes smiled at the fact that his brother actually loved someone. And Rachel obviously felt the same.

Obviously.

#####

**Back to Rachel's POV**

All I wanted to do was curl up under my blanket and read a good book. But John had thought otherwise. As soon as I walked into the building, he had run up to me and began questioning me. His questions varied from "_What happened with Irene Adler?_", "_What did Sherlock do?_" to "_Why are you crying_".

"John, I really don't feel like talking about it" I said as he ushered me into 221B and began making tea. I never understood the need for tea when someone has a problem.

"It'll help" John stated, handing me the tea. I sighed knowing there was no way to avoid John and his questions.

So I told him what happened, from the moment I came in, to the moment I stormed out. He kept listening to what I was saying just like Scott did. One good thing about today: I was blessed with 2 fantastic best friend!

"I did not expect that from Sherlock. I understand the whole cold, sociopath that he is but haven't you seen the way he looks at you? I have and it's not a look he gives to anyone. I've actually never seen him look at anybody like that. And he's not _him_ when he's around you. Haven't you noticed that Sherlock is always smiling when your around? He never smiles, unless he had just insulted someone, in that case me. So I don't believe he had meant what he said. Maybe those words for intended for Irene Adler?" John explained. It was hard being mad at Sherlock when John was saying all of this. Actually, it's always hard being mad at the detective because he gives you those puppy dog eyes.

"I appreciate this and the tea, John. But Sherlock's already said what's on his mind. And I can't change that, can I?" I said, standing up.

"Maybe he'll apologize" John suggested.

"This is Sherlock Holmes, he never apologizes" I admitted. I gave John a quick hug before walking down the stairs to my own flat.

Avoiding stupid love stories that magically appeared on my book shelf (wonder how they got there...), I looked for a book that might actually cheer me up. I always found it efficient and amazing how I could read a good book and my depressing thoughts would just go away. I glanced at my historical fiction books. Why had I ever gotten these? Some of the books were well read and incredibly worn. Some were brand new with a layer of dust. One book caught my eye. Really, out of all the books on this giant shelf, I pick out that one? I sighed and pulled the thick book from it's place on the shelf. Maybe Ford Madox Ford and his famous novel might be able to block out my thoughts on Sherlock as well as the sound of thunder outside. Some might think this is quite cliché, but it's actually the British weather, causing it to rain even on days like today. Today was a bad day, wasn't it? I sat down on my couch and opened the book. The book isn't quite as worn as the others, but I have read Parade's End once or twice. Let's delve back into my adolescence than, shall we?

I was a few chapters into the book when an urgent knock on the door brought me back to reality from early 20th century England. Must be John since Sherlock would have picked the lock right now. I'm a bit relieved that it isn't Sherlock. I'm not exactly willing to speak with him at the moment. I set my book down and jumped off the couch. Thunder rumbled outside and I saw a few streaks of lighting through the windows as I made my way towards the door. I turned the knob and groaned inwardly. Oh goodie, he's back. And he's soaking wet.

"Rachel, let me explain-" Sherlock began but was cut off by the door slamming shut in front of his face. I think that went well. I was about to walk away when there was another knock on the door. He's not going to leave, is he? I opened the door and found Sherlock, looking at me with a hurt expression. Don't give in to the look.

"Please, let me explain" He pleaded.

"There is nothing to explain. You clearly expressed your feelings. Goodnight" I said rather coldly, slamming the door in his face once again. Frankly, I believe I had to close the door or I would have forgiven him sooner than I hoped. Obviously I'm going to forgive him. It'll just take a while. A long while. But he gave me that _look_. And his curly locks were a lot longer when soaking wet which was just really attractive and- Wait, why was he wet? Had he only gotten back now? I shook my head, clearing it from these thoughts. Ignoring the knocks on the door, I turned back to my novel. If he wants to talk to me that badly, he could just pick the lock. So why hasn't he? Was he trying to be polite by not picking my lock anymore?

At one point, the knocking stopped but there we're no footsteps walking away from the door. What was he doing? I stood up and peered through the peephole. Sherlock was sitting on the floor, leaning against the door frame, literally, on my doorstep. Is he actually going to stay there all night? That would be charming... I shook my head and walked back to my book. No, I will not forgive him. Even if he does sit under my door all night.

**I was supposed to update this yesterday, but than I thought "No I can't stop it there" so I continued and ended up here. Review your thoughts about this chapter!**


	29. Chapter 29

**I couldn't wait to continue the story since there's a bit of conflict between Rachel and Sherlock so I immediately began writing again! Sherlock isn't used to apologies, so let's see how everything goes... Enjoy :)**

John had sent me a text that really confused me and I don't really like the feeling of confusion before I've had my first cup of coffee. John was never one for anything weird but his text was plain bizarre.

**_Found something on your doorstep. Come and have a look_**

**_-JW_**

I immediately got dressed and made my way towards the door. It was a bit dark outside. Must be really early. So why did John text me? I turned the knob and something hit the ground as soon as I opened the door. There was a groan of pain and a chuckle. I found John, leaning against the wall in front of my door. I also found a mass of black and dark blue, a few curls sticking out here and there.

"What's going on?" I asked.

"Found him asleep on your doorstep" John said, pointing to Sherlock who was sprawled on the floor, clutching his head. He must have been leaning against the door if he fell as soon as I opened it.

"He was sleeping?" I asked, a bit surprised.

"I'm right here" Sherlock pointed out.

"John, please tell him I won't be talking to him" I said as politely as I could, stepping over Sherlock and closing the door to my flat. There was more knocking on the door as I slipped into my jacket and grabbed my bag. I laced my combat boots and walking towards the door. Knowing Sherlock was bound to fall again, I stepped aside as I opened the door. He stumbled as I walked out of my flat, closing the door behind me.

"Why won't you talk to me?" Sherlock asked, tailing after me like a lost puppy. I walked out of the building and into the slightly cold street. Sherlock was at my heels as I walked down the street.

"Fine, don't talk then. Let me explain at least" Sherlock said. I ignored him and kept walking.

"Rachel, please listen" He pleaded as he stopped walking. I froze at the tone of his voice. He seemed... hurt. I shook my head and kept walking. No, I wasn't going to give in that easily.

#####

I don't know exactly where I was going, but I ended up sitting in a cafe with Scott. I seemed to be spending more and more time with him. I'm happy that we're bonding so well! Scott decided that we we're not to talk about Sherlock so he decided to tell me how he got a promotion. He's a field journalist now, just like me. We sat in that cafe for hours, just talking about anything that crossed our minds. Finally, Scott got a call and had to leave, so I decided I better head home.

I was relieved to see that Sherlock was not sitting at my doorstep, again. Instead, there was a single rose under my door.

#####

It has been 4 days since the Irene Adler case was closed. That's 4 days of Sherlock sitting on my doorstep, waiting for me to open the door and let him explain. That's 4 days of ignoring Sherlock. That's 4 roses that I found under my door when Sherlock wasn't sitting there. John had insisted I talk to Sherlock, and I want to, I just don't know what to say. Maybe I can just walk up to him and say "_Hey! You said love is a chemical defect, meaning our relationship is over, let's get coffee!_". If only it we're that simple. John found the little conflict between Sherlock and I amusing. He stated that we we're acting like 'pissed off teenagers'. And maybe we we're, but that doesn't mean anything is going to change.

#####

I've resorted to roaming the streets of London until nightfall. It's amazing how long I've lived here and never really paid attention to the things I saw. Sherlock was right: We see but we do not observe. Bloody stupid git, why did he always have to be right about everything? I wonder if what he said at Mycroft's office was even true... Maybe he just said it to prove that he's clever enough to unlock the camera phone? We're those words even directed towards both Irene and I? These questions have been burning away at my mind since I stormed out of the office. The sound of thunder shook me from my reverie. If this wasn't London, I would have found it extremely odd that it kept raining every 2 days.

I didn't mind a bit of rain, but as it poured down upon me, I regretted not bringing an umbrella. It was extremely dark and with the help of rain, blurry as well. The light yellow spots of street lamps we're barely visible through the thick rain drops. I stuffed my hands into the pockets of my coat and kept walking down down the dark street, heading back to Baker Street. Obviously there was no one outside, why would anyone be out and about in rain like this? So why did I hear footsteps hitting the wet pavement? I glanced behind me but there was no one there. I turned around and spotted a dark shape coming my way. As soon as I caught sight of the blue/green eyes, I huffed and turned on my heel, walking away. Why does he keep doing this? I turned the corner and reached Baker Street. I could make out the warm glow from the windows through the rain.

"Rachel!"

I ignored him and kept walking. The footsteps quickened and suddenly someone was holding my arm, preventing me from walking away. He let go of my arm as I turned around. It was hard to glare at Sherlock with the rain and all, but I tried my best to glare daggers at him.

"Just listen, please" Sherlock said, giving me a pleading look. Might as well listen to what the idiot has got to say.

"I understand I hurt you-"

"Do you now?"

"Yes I do. But what I said, I didn't mean it. At least not directed towards you. Everyone might think I'm cold and emotionless, I am but I still have emotions, I just- I don't know how to express them! That's called being a bloody sociopath, by the way. But I really am sorry. I don't deserve your forgiveness but you need to know that I am deeply sorry and I regret anything I said or did" Sherlock said all too quickly, stuttering here and there. I watched him curiously, waiting for him to shout "_NOT!_" any second. But he remained quiet, observing me.

"Thank you for that apology. I'll be going then" I stated, turning on my heel and walking away before I gave into the _look_. How could I not? He just looks so lost and frankly adorable with that look in his beautiful eyes and the way his curly locks framed his handsome face. Damn it, he's done it again.

"Rachel!" Sherlock called, a bit of hurt in his voice. I kept walking, puddles splashing at my feet with each step. I was about to walk past Speedy's cafe when 3 little words stopped me.

"I-I love you!"

Words are just words. But if you put meaning and emotion into them, they can be so much more. Everybody says those 3 little words at least once everyday, either to your family, or other loved ones. Most of the time, you don't mean it, it's just automatic like telling you mum 'I love you' after your finish talking on the phone with her. But once in a while, sometimes even once in a lifetime, 3 words can change a lot, if you put the right meaning into them.

Maybe Sherlock didn't know how to express emotions, he was a sociopath after all, but that doesn't mean he didn't know what the meaning behind his words was. Maybe he deemed it better to hide emotions, but in 3 words, I heard all the emotions that he had kept bottled up. One of them being love.

I turned around and looked at Sherlock. I expected to see a confident smile on his face, like he just achieved his goal of finally showing emotions. All I saw was a man so broken most would find terrifying.

"I love you" His tone was a bit softer, as he walked towards me. I could see it in his eyes that he truly meant it.

"I didn't know Sherlock Holmes was capable of love" I said. Sherlock smirked that half smirk of his.

"There are some exceptions" He admitted. We we're a few feet apart.

"What might they be?" I asked curiously. Now, we we're a few inches apart.

"You"

What ever I was going to say, well I must have forgot it because I was completely focused on the fact that I was a bit busy kissing Sherlock Holmes. Ha, never thought I'd say that. The whole kissing in the rain thing was so cliche, but I didn't care because I'd gotten my Sherlock back.

We just stood there, in front of Speedy's cafe, kissing (quite passionately), and not caring about the icy rain biting our skin. It was quite romantic actually, unless John was filming everything or something to show to the whole of Scotland Yard. I really hope he wasn't.

"Am I forgiven?" Sherlock asked as we parted.

"I'll think about it" I said, kissing his cheek. He chuckled and nodded.

"Shall we go home now? I don't exactly fancy wet clothes" Sherlock admitted. Yeah, everything is back to normal. Who am I kidding, when have the residents of Baker Street ever been normal?

**This was sort of a fluffy filler chapter because I'm out of inspiration (blame writer's block). I start school tomorrow, but luckily, it's only a half day so I might be able to update. I really hope you guys liked this chapter! Your reviews make me smile when I read them so keep the reviews coming! **


	30. Chapter 30

**I'm really eager to write about the Hound of Baskerville, sooo I hope you like it and will excuse the week long hiatus of updates. In this chapter, we will be delving in Rachel's past and something _very_ unexpected at the end of this case. I've already got it all planed, I just have to put it in words! Enjoy :)**

When I was younger, I was extremely hyperactive. I always thought that was a bad thing. Now I've seen Sherlock without a case for a week. My old, hyperactive self would appearnormal compared to him. How could there be so much energy in a grown man's body? He was bounding off the walls or shooting them. He might destroy all of 221B if he doesn't get a case soon.

#####

I sat on the couch of 221B, sipping my tea while John looked for any cases in the newspaper. He had decided to help Sherlock find a case while the detective was out, doing god knows what.

"Anything?" I asked curiously. John glanced up from the newspaper and shook his head. Great, we'll be dealing with a bored Sherlock for another few days. Not that I didn't like a bored Sherlock. To be honest, Sherlock was just cheeky when he's bored. I could be sitting on the couch and he would just lay down, resting his head in my lap because he has nothing to do. John would laugh at the sight of me playing with Sherlock's curly locks when the detective is just sprawled on the couch. I noticed that Sherlock is quite ticklish. Who knew a bloody high-functioning, sociopathic Consulting Detective was ticklish and liked it when you played with his hair?

And then all hell broke loose as soon as Sherlock walked through the door. Good thing I had finished my tea and set the empty cup down on the coffee table, or I would have dropped the cup at the sight of him. There he was, standing in the doorway, holding a harpoon. Don't mind the bit about the harpoon though.

Sherlock was covered in blood from head to toe, but there we're no wounds on him and there was too much blood to be his own. His sky blue shirt was scarlet from the blood and his trousers we're just glistening in the stuff. But he was holding a harpoon! I said that already didn't I... A bloody harpoon! Oh hold on, bad choice of words. I look around at John, who's mirroring my expression: pure horror. I looked back at Sherlock who was breathing a bit heavily. I looked away from Sherlock before I did anything rash. I believe Sherlock was nice enough to mention I have hemophobia.

"Well that was tedious" Sherlock said, grimacing.

"You went on the tube like that?" John asked.

"None of the cabs would take me" Sherlock stated before walking off to his room, hopefully to take a shower.

"Rachel, are you alright?" I heard John ask me.

"Hmm. What?" I asked. Seeing all that blood on Sherlock has gotten me slightly dizzy.

"I asked if your alright. Because your paler than Sherlock" John repeated.

"I'm fine" I muttered. I closed my eyes and took deep breaths. I don't know how long I did that but when I opened my eyes, Sherlock was crouching down in front of me, clean of blood, wearing a fresh, white shirt, his regular trousers and his blue dressing gown. He had a concerned expression on his face. What he didn't have, was shoes.

"Are you alright?" He asked quietly.

"I'm okay" I stated.

"I already told you, your a terrible liar" He said.

"Really, Sherlock, I'm fine" I protested. Sherlock nodded and straightened up. As if something came over him, the concerned expression vanished and he began pacing from the window to the door, with his harpoon. Where did he get a harpoon anyways? I stood up and walking over to John. I peered over his shoulder and watched as he leafed through the paper looking for cases.

"Nothing?" Sherlock asked impatiently.

"Military coup in Uganda" John suggested. Sherlock gave an annoyed '_hmm_'. I laughed as soon as I saw the picture on the next page.

"Another photo of you with the, er ..." I began, pointing at the photograph of Sherlock in the deerstalker hat. The detective made a disgusted noise and John chuckled.

"Oh, um, Cabinet reshuffle" John said.

"Nothing of importance?" Sherlock asked furiously, slamming the harpoon on the ground.

"OH GOD!" He roared in rage. I bit my lip to keep myself from laughing. Sherlock looked at John and I intensly.

"John, I need some. _Get_ me some" He ordered impatiently.

"No" I said calmly, walking away from John's armchair and crossing my arms.

"Get me some" This time with more urgency in his voice.

"No" John stated.

"Cold turkey, we agreed, no matter what" He added. Sherlock had an irritated expression on his face as he leaned the harpoon against the table.

"Anyway, you've paid everyone off, remember? No-one within a two mile radius'll sell you any" I said.

"Stupid idea. Whose idea was that?" Sherlock muttered. John cleared his throat pointedly. Sherlock looked at the door before shouting:

"MRS. HUDSON!" He started hurling papers and files from the desk as he searched for what he needed.

"Look, Sherlock, you're doing really well. Don't give up now" John told him.

"Tell me where they are. Please. Tell me" He said frantically. John remained silent. I watched with amusement as Sherlock straightened up and then turned his most appealing puppy-dog eyes on John. Hesitating before he spoke and almost forming the word a couple of times before actually speaking it:

"Please" Sherlock said. He actually sound like a normal human being. The coldness in his tone was gone.

"Can't help, sorry" John said.

"I'll let you know next week's lottery numbers" Sherlock tried. I really wasn't surprised that Sherlock could figure the bloody lottery numbers. John chuckled.

"Oh it was worth a try" Sherlock muttered in an exasperated tone. Then he turned to me with the same puppy dog eyes. Don't give in.

"My darling angel, you are the air I breathe and the owner of my heart. Please tell me where they are" Sherlock said, taking my hands and giving me a charming smile.

"That might work on John, not me" I stated, kissing his cheek.

"Oi!" John exclaimed. Sherlock looked around the room before diving towards the ground. He began rummaging through the fireplace. Then mrs. Hudson joined the mad party.

"My secret supply: what have you done with my secret supply?" Sherlock asked, his voice a few octaves higher than usual. Mrs. Hudson gave me a quizzical look.

"Cigarettes! What have you done with them? Where are they?" Sherlock asked, frantically looking everywhere.

"You know you never let me touch your things!" Mrs. Hudson protested.

"Ooh, chance would be a fine thing" She added. Sherlock stood up and faced her.

"I thought you _weren't_ my housekeeper" He said.

"I'm not" Mrs. Hudson stated. I watched, very amused, as Sherlock made a frustrated noise and stomped over to his harpoon, picking it up. I glanced at John, who did the universal mime of offering someone a drink. Mrs. Hudson nodded quickly.

"How about a nice cuppa, and perhaps you could put away your harpoon" She suggested.

"I need something _stronger_ than tea. Seven per _cent_ stronger" Sherlock said the last part quietly. He looked out the window before turning back to mrs. Hudson and aiming the harpoon at her.

"You've been to see Mr. Chatterjee again" Sherlock deduced.

"Pardon?" She asked. I sighed and sat down on the couch, waiting for the scene about to evolve.

"Sandwich shop. That's a new dress, but there's flour on the sleeve. You wouldn't dress like that for baking" He deduced, pointing with the harpoon.

"Sherlock..." I warned.

"Thumbnail: tiny traces of foil. Been at the scratch cards again. We all know where _that_ leads, don't we?" Sherlock said very quickly. He stopped aiming the harpoon at her and inhaled deeply, sniffing the air.

"Mmm: Kasbah Nights. Pretty racy for first thing on a Monday morning, wouldn't you agree? I've written a little blog on the identification of perfumes. It's on the website – you should look it up" He added.

"Please" Mrs. Hudson was exasperated now.

"I wouldn't pin your hopes on that cruise with Mr. Chatterjee. He's got a wife in Doncaster that nobody knows about" I cracked a smile as he adopted a Yorkshire accent when he said Doncaster.

"Sherlock!" John exclaimed angrily.

"Well nobody except me!" He exclaimed

"I don't know what you're talking about, I really don't" Mrs. Hudson protested before running out of the flat. I think Sherlock has a new record of getting someone to run out of the flat in tears. Sherlock leaped over the back of his chair from behind it, then perched on the seat, wrapping his arms around his knees like a petulant child. John slammed his newspaper down. I kept watching Sherlock with amusement as he rocked back and forth like a disturbed child.

"What the bloody hell was that about?" I asked.

"You don't understand" Sherlock stated. I huffed in annoyance.

"Go after her and apologize" John said sternly.

"Apologize?" Sherlock asked as if he's never heard that word before. He stared at John.

"Mmm-hmm"

"Oh, John, I envy you so much" Sherlock sighed. I watched John hesitate.

"You envy me?" John asked finally.

"Your mind: it's so placid, straightforward, barely used. Mine's like an engine, racing out of control; a rocket tearing itself to pieces trapped on the launch pad" Sherlock said all too quickly. He looked like a mad man as he sat there, rocking back and forth with wide eyes.

"I NEED A CASE!" He exclaimed loudly and frantically.

"You've just solved one! By harpooning a dead pig, apparently!" I exclaimed, equally loudly. Sherlock gave an exasperated noise and jumped into the air, landing properly in the seat. Well, when I say properly, I mean Sherlock was sitting with his legs wide apart, showing how tight his trousers really are. I blushed and looked away. Did he really have to sit like that? With those beanstalk legs of his?

"That was this morning!" Sherlock whined. He began drumming his fingers on the arms of his chair.

"When's the next one?" He asked impatiently.

"Nothing on the website?" I asked. Sherlock stood up and walked over to the desk. He picked up his laptop and handed it to me.

"_Dear Mr. Sherlock Holmes. I can't find Bluebell anywhere. Please please please can you help?_" Sherlock said, mimicking a little girl. I gave John a look but he just shrugged.

"Bluebell?" John asked.

"A rabbit, John!" Sherlock exclaimed in an irritated tone. Sherlock was moving around so much he looked like a bloody mad man.

"Oh" John simply said.

"Ah, but there's more! Before Bluebell disappeared, it turned luminous, "_like a fairy_" according to little Kirsty; then the next morning, Bluebell was gone! Hutch still locked, no sign of a forced entry..." Sherlock said sarcastically, his voice an octave higher. I think John put something in Sherlock's tea this morning..._  
_

"Ah! What am I saying? This is brilliant! Phone Lestrade. Tell him there's an escaped rabbit" Sherlock said seriously, pointing to the phone by John's armchair.

"Are you serious?" I asked.

"Ah no!" I stated, closing the laptop and placing it on the table.

"We are _never _playing that again"

"Why not?"

"Because it's not actually possible for the victim to have done it, Sherlock, that's why"

"Well, it was the only possible solution"

"It's not in the rules"

"Then the rules are wrong!" Sherlock exclaimed furiously. We both stopped talking as soon as the doorbell rang. Sherlock looked at the living room door.

"Single ring" John stated.

"Maximum pressure just under the half second" Sherlock deduced.

"Client"

#####

While Sherlock ran to his room to get his blazer, I went downstairs to open the door. I heard a few yells from 221B but decided to ignore it. I'm gone for a minute, what could they possibly do? I turned the knob and opened the door. I really wish John went to open the door now. Almost like someone brought the memories of my mum's death back from where I had placed them at the back of my mind, her disappearance, the dead body, the funeral, dad's death, Christopher's drinking, it all flashed before my eyes as soon as I saw a face I haven't seen since I left Dartmoor.

"Rachel!?"

######

"Sherlock."

"Hmm?"

"Staring isn't polite"

"Your point is?"

"Stop staring at him.

Sherlock glared at me but stopped staring at the man sitting in front of us. I had noticed Sherlock observing him, without blinking, as we watched the documentary about Dartmoor. We've been whispering for the past few minutes while John and the newcomer watched the documentary.

"So you know him?"

"Stop asking questions"

Perhaps I should clear things up. The man who had been at the door was Henry Knight. I know him because we we're neighbors in Dartmoor. I never actually talked to him when we we're neighbors, except when he came to my mum's funeral. From what Henry told me all those years ago, was that the death of my mum had something in common with his dad's death. My mum was found dead in Dewer's Hollow, at the Moor. His dead was killed in that same place but his body was never found. After 2 years, Henry, Christopher and I we're known as the only orphans in the town. It was a really small town so anyone could recognize us right away. But why was Henry here now? Why did he need the help of a Consulting Detective? He couldn't still think that the so called 'hound' had killed his father? Well, he did try to convince me that the hound had killed my mother but that's preposterous.

After a few minutes, Sherlock got bored of the documentary and turned it off. Then he turned to Henry and I got ready for the deduction he was about to throw at him.

"What did you see?" Sherlock asked.

"Oh. I ... I was just about to say" Henry stuttered.

"Yes, in a TV interview. I prefer to do my own editing" Sherlock stated. I glanced at John who sat at the table while I sat on the arm of Sherlock's chair. John shook his head and turned back to his notepad.

"Yes. Sorry, yes, of course. 'Scuse me" Henry said as he pulled out a paper napkin.

"In your own time" John said kindly.

"But quite quickly" Sherlock uttered, putting on a fake smile.

"Do you know Dartmoor, Mr. Holmes?" Henry asked.

"No but Rachel does so I can ask her about it anytime" Sherlock stated.

"It's an amazing place. It's like nowhere else. It's sort of ... bleak but beautiful" Henry explained.

"Mmm, not interested. Moving on" Sherlock said. I hit his arm but he ignored me.

"We used to go for walks, after my mum died, my dad and me. Every evening we'd go out onto the moor" Henry began.

"Yes, good. Skipping to the night that your dad was violently killed. Where did that happen?" Sherlock asked. I heard John sigh at Sherlock's insensitivity.

"There's a place – it's... it's a sort of local landmark called Dewer's Hollow" Henry explained. Sherlock tilted his head as if to say "And...?".

"That's an ancient name for the Devil" I stated. Sherlock looked at me at me with analyzing eyes. He turned back to Henry and quirked an eyebrow.

"So?" Sherlock asked.

"Did you see the Devil that night?" John asked. Henry nodded, his face paling slightly.

"It was huge. Coal-black fur, with red eyes" Henry stated.

"It got him, tore at him, tore him apart. Like what happened to your mum!" He added, pointing at me.

"Henry..." I began.

"So your parents' deaths are connected, why are _you_ here?" Sherlock asked.

"I can't remember anything else. They found me the next morning, just wandering on the moor. My dad's body was never found. Her mum was found in the same state as my dad at the Hollow" Henry explained.

"Hmm. Red eyes, coal-black fur, enormous: dog? Wolf?" John asked, looking at Sherlock.

"Or a genetic experiment" Sherlock said, biting back a smile.

"Are you laughing at me, Mr. Holmes?" Henry asked.

"Why, are you joking?" Sherlock retorted.

"My dad and her mum we're always going on about the things they were doing at Baskerville; about the type of monsters they were breeding there. People used to laugh at him. At least the TV people took me seriously" Henry stated.

"And, I assume, did wonders for Devon tourism" Sherlock said.

"Henry, whatever _did_ happen to your father and my mother, it was a long time ago. Why come to us now?" I asked.

"I'm not sure you can help me, Mr. Holmes, since you find it all so funny" Henry said, addressing Sherlock.

"Because of what happened last night" Sherlock stated.

"Why, what happened last night?" I asked.

"How ... how do you know?" Henry asked.

"I don't know, I notice" Sherlock explained.

"You came up from Devon on the first available train this morning. You had a disappointing breakfast and a cup of black coffee. The girl in the seat across the aisle fancied you. Although you were initially keen, you've now changed your mind. You are, however, _extremely_ anxious to have your first cigarette of the day. Sit down, Mr. Knight, and do _please_ smoke. I'd be delighted" Sherlock said all too quickly. I sighed and listened how Sherlock deduced everything about Henry. My eyes widened as soon as I heard where the conversation was heading.

"Now shut up and smoke" Sherlock ordered. I glanced at John who was hiding his "_oh dear lord_" look by drinking his coffee.

"Um, Henry, your parents both died and you were, what, seven years old?" John asked as Henry rolled up a cigarette and lit it. I glanced at Sherlock who was sitting at the edge of his seat. Well this should be fun to watch. Henry concentrated on taking his first drag on his cigarette. As he exhaled his first lungful, Sherlock stood up and stepped closer to him.

"I know. That ... my ..." Henry began. He stopped as Sherlock leaned into the smoke drifting up from the cigarette and from Henry's mouth and breathed in deeply. Having sucked up most of the smoke, he sat down again and breathed out. Because I sat so close to Sherlock, I heard him whine quietly in pleasure of having inhaled the smoke.

"That must be a ... quite a trauma. Have you ever thought that maybe you invented this story, this..." John began, trying to ignore Sherlock. Henry exhaled another lungful of smoke and Sherlock did the same as before. John paused patiently and waited for Sherlock to sit down. I'm convinced John put something in Sherlock's coffee now.

"... to account for it?" John continued. Henry dragged his eyes away from Sherlock and looked at John.

"That's what Doctor Mortimer says" Henry stated.  
"Who?" I asked.

"His therapist"

"My therapist"

"Obviously"

"Louise Mortimer. She's the reason I came back to Dartmoor. She thinks I have to face my demons" Henry explained.

"And what happened when you went back to Dewer's Hollow last night, Henry? You went there on the advice of your therapist and now you're consulting a detective. What did you see that changed everything?" Sherlock asked.

"It's a strange place, the Hollow. Makes you feel so cold inside, so afraid" Henry began. Sherlock rolled his eyes.

"Yes, if I wanted poetry, I'd read John's emails to his girlfriends or Rachel's letters from previous boyfriends. Much funnier" Sherlock stated. John and I both glared at him.

"What did you see?" Sherlock asked Henry.

"Footprints – on the exact spot where I saw my father torn apart" Henry explained. Sherlock leaned back in his seat.

"Man's or a woman's?" I asked.

"Neither. They were-"

"Is that it? Nothing else. Footprints. Is that all?" Sherlock asked, interrupting Henry. He began protesting but Sherlock stood up, buttoning his blazer.

"No, sorry, Doctor Mortimer wins. Childhood trauma masked by an invented memory. Boring! Goodbye, Mr. Knight. Thank you for smoking" Sherlock said.

"No, but what about the footprints?" Henry asked.

"Oh, they're probably paw prints; could be anything, therefore nothing. Off to Devon with you; have a cream tea on me" Sherlock stated, walking to the kitchen.

"Mr. Holmes, they were the footprints of a gigantic hound!" My eyes widened as soon as I heard Henry. Sherlock isn't really buying this... is he? I shook my head and focused on the conversation.

"I'll take the case?" Sherlock stated. I must have missed something.

"Sorry, what?" John asked.

"Thank you for bringing this to my attention. It's very promising" Sherlock said as he began pacing the room, his hands steeped under his chin.

"No-no-no, sorry, _what_? A minute ago, footprints were boring; now they're very promising?" John asked.

"It's _nothing_ to do with footprints. As ever, John, you weren't listening. Baskerville: ever heard of it?" Sherlock asked as he stopped pacing. I glanced at John.

"Vaguely. It's very hush-hush" John admitted.

"Sounds like a good place to start" Sherlock said.

"Ah! You'll come down, then?" Henry asked.

"No, I can't leave London at the moment. Far too busy. Don't worry – putting my best man onto it" He walked over to John and patted him on the shoulder.

"Always rely on John to send me the relevant data, as he never understands a word of it himself" Sherlock added.

"What are you talking about, you're busy? You don't have a case! A minute ago you were complaining-" I began but once again, Sherlock cut me off.

"Bluebell, Rachel! I've got Bluebell! The case of the vanishing, glow-in-the-dark rabbit! NATO's in uproar" Sherlock stated. He sounded very much _not_ like himself.

"Oh, sorry, no, you're not coming, then?" Henry asked. Sherlock's getting very bipolar with his choices now. Sherlock put on a regretful expression and shook his head, almost sadly. John stood up and walked over to the mantel piece. He lifted the skull and took the hidden packet of cigarettes. John turned and tossed Sherlock the packet, who immediately threw it over his shoulder.

"I don't need those any more. I'm going to Dartmoor" Sherlock stated.

"You go on ahead, Henry. We'll follow later" Sherlock added, walking to the door.

"Er, sorry, so you _are_ coming?" Henry asked, scrambling to his feet.

"Twenty year old disappearance; a monstrous hound? I wouldn't miss this for the world!" Sherlock exclaimed before walking out of the room.

#####

"No"

"Why not"

"Because!"

"Please?"

"I don't understand why I've got to go" I stated as I packed clothes into my suitcase.

"Because" Sherlock said.

"Because?" I asked. Sherlock huffed and ran a hand through his hair.

"Because I want you by my side. What if something happens to you while I'm gone? You've got a bad habit of getting into dangerous situations" Sherlock admitted.

"Is this about my safety or about you missing me?" I asked teasingly.

"A bit of both" Sherlock muttered as he sat down on my bed.

"Fine, I'll go" How can anyone argue with Sherlock Holmes. He'll drive you insane just by annoying you. Sherlock smiled at me.

"I just need to know one thing" I said.

"Yes?" Sherlock asked.

"Have you gone mad, love?" I asked.

"Well, I wasn't exactly sane to start with"

**I've been waiting such a long time for the Baskerville case! Right so Henry and Rachel know each other... ooooh I wonder what'll happen! Next chapter: Jealous Sherlock, life threatening situations, and much more! Reviews make me happy!**


	31. Chapter 31

**Right so, explanations!**

**Yes, it's been more than a month that I've updated. But I saw a comment that asked if I was doing okay (health level) and I got the idea that you guys are probably concerned for me so I'll begin explaining.**

**-fell into minor depression**

**-fell out of depression (yay :D)**

**-too much homework**

**-too much exams**

**-too much projects**

**-dropped my laptop, all my future chapters we're erased, had to get a new one and rewrite everything**

**-began writing 2 original stories (i want to be a writer, just in case you haven't noticed)**

**-felt really bad for not updating so here i am!**

**I think this chapter will be a bit short, but I'll be updating either tonight (since it's the afternoon) or tomorrow. I'm really sorry! Please don't hate me!**

Sherlock and I stood by the cab, watching Mrs. Hudson shout at Mr. Chatterjee in the cafe. John walked out with the suitcases and flinched as soon as something hit the door.

"Oh! Looks like Mrs Hudson finally got to the wife in Doncaster" John said.

"Mmm. Wait 'til she finds out about the one in Islamabad" Sherlock deduced.

"And you said you didn't concern yourself with trivia. What do you call this?" I asked Sherlock.

"This is for Mrs. Hudson's sake" Sherlock protested.

"Aw how sweet" I teased, ruffling his hair and helping John with the suitcases. I could feel Sherlock glaring daggers at me as I followed John into the cab. Sherlock climbed in and shut the door.

"Paddington Station, please" Sherlock told the cabbie. This should be a fun case!- said no one who knew Sherlock Holmes.

######

"If I wake up and find you 2 snogging, I'm going back to London"

Sherlock and I both blushed beet red and scooted away from each other.

"Now I can sleep without that wonderful thought" John muttered sarcastically before leaning back in his seat and closing his eyes. We've only been on the train for half an hour, and John was already in (what I called) dad mode. Yes, you read that right. Our dear John (no, not that one) has a bad habit of scolding Sherlock and I, sort of like a parent. Okay, he only does that to Sherlock. And I call that his dad mode.

"You didn't have to come with us if you felt uncomfortable with going back to Dartmoor" Sherlock told me quietly.

"Did you expect me to stay in London while you chase some hound from hell?" I asked.

"I knew you would tag along" Sherlock stated.

"Oh, why is that?" I asked.

"Because you can't resist me" He said.

"Sherlock Holmes, are you flirting?" I asked.

"Ah, it would seem so" He replied, glancing out the window. I laughed lightly. I smiled as I felt Sherlock press a kiss on my cheek.

"Oi! Didn't I say no snogging!?"

######

Why we agreed to let Sherlock drive, I don't know. It's not like he's a bad driver, he's fine. It's just odd to see Sherlock doing something normal people do. Because, obviously, he's not normal so it's just... odd. That's it. So here we we're Sherlock at the wheel, me by his side and John in the back seat, driving across the moors in a black Land Rover.

"Look" John said, leaning forwards and pointing to a series of connected, grey buildings on the horizon.

"Let's go and see what that is then" I muttered sarcastically.

One thing you should know about Sherlock (it's a bit obvious) is that he likes to be dramatic. John and I shared our series of jokes of Sherlock falling off the large, stone outcrop he was currently climbing. The detective must have forgot to mention he knew how to rock climb because I didn't see him lose his footing once as he climbed to the top of the rocks.

"There's Baskerville" I stated, pointing to the array of building John had noticed.

"And there's Grimpen Village" I added, pointing behind us towards the collection of brown and grey in the distance. John glanced down at the map he was holding.

"So that must be..." He bean.

"Yeah, it's Dewer's Hollow" I finished.

"What's that?" Sherlock asked, pointing to an area between the Hollow and Baskerville.

"Hmm?" John asked, raising the binoculars.

"Minefield? Technically Baskerville's an army base, so I guess they've always been keen to keep people out" John stated.

"Clearly" Sherlock said.

"Right Sherlock come on down. Unless you want to fall. That's another way of coming down" I told Sherlock.

"Yes, very funny" I heard Sherlock mutter as he climbed down from the rocks. John walked back to the Land Rover while I waited for Sherlock to get down. He jumped from the rocks and walked towards me.

"Listen, Rachel, if you don't want to go to Grimpen village, we don't have too" Sherlock said quietly as soon as John was out of earshot.

"I appreciate the concern but it's fine. I think my parents' graves need fresh flowers" I admitted with a shaky laugh. What I didn't say, which Sherlock could figure out himself if he hasn't already, was the other important person in my life that was buried next to them.

"Good, come on darling" He said, kissing my temple and intertwining his fingers with my own.

######

You know that feeling you get when you go back to a place you haven't been to in a very long time? I think that feeling is trying to suffocate me. I found myself remembering everything that happened at every place we drove past. Maybe it was a bad idea coming back here. Is it too late to go back to London. All these thoughts we're racing through my mind but then it all stopped as soon as I felt a warm hand on mine. Sometimes, I think Sherlock Holmes can read minds. Unless I was saying everything I was thinking out loud... Hopefully that's not the case. I took calming breaths as we pulled up into Cross Key's Inn. We got out of the car and walked past a tour group who was saying many interesting things about the hound everyone believed to be true. Why are some people so gullible?

I followed Sherlock and John into Cross Key's Inn. I greeted Billy and Gary just like I would when I was younger. Growing up in a small neighborhood, you tend to know everybody. I glanced around the Inn, noticing nothing's changed since the last I've been here. As I was looking around, I heard John get 2 rooms. I couldn't help but smile at the thought of John and Sherlock possibly sharing a bedroom. John walked back towards me and gave me a weak smile.

"What's Sherlock doing?" John asked as soon as he noticed the detective had gone off to talk to a man outside. I think John and I we're focused on different things. I assumed he was talking about the fact that Sherlock may be annoying that man to death while I was concerned with something else...

"Is he drinking beer?" I asked, slightly surprised. All the time I've lived with Sherlock and John, I've never seen Sherlock go out for a pint or even drink a glass of wine. That's a bit odd. John sighed and walked outside, me at his heels. Sherlock and the man we're sitting at one of the tables, discussing something. Sherlock had a friendly smile on his face. This must be for the case then. We approached the table just as the man was about to leave.

"I called Henry..." John told Sherlock, completely ignoring Sherlock's annoyed sigh as I realized John ruined the be-friendly-to-this-random-guy plan.

"Bet's off Rachel, sorry" Sherlock stated, glancing at me and giving me a look. So if John isn't cooperating, he's dragging me into this.

"What?" I asked, sitting across from him.

"Bet?" The man asked.

"My plan needs darkness' He said, looking at his watch before looking up at the sky' Reckon we've got another half an hour of light..." Sherlock began, only to be cut off by the man.

"Bet? What bet?" He asked.

"Oh, I bet Rachel here fifty quid that you couldn't prove you'd seen the hound" Sherlock replied.

"Yeah, the guys at the pub said you could" I added.

"Well you're going to lose your money, mate" The man informed Sherlock. At this point of the conversation, I looked at John who was trying not to laugh at how normal Sherlock was acting. I tuned back into the conversation as soon as I heard mention of Baskerville. How would this man know something about a secret military base?

"In the labs there – the really _secret_ labs, he said he'd seen ... terrible things. Rats as big as dogs, he said, and dogs ..." The man began, pulling something out of his back pack.

"Dogs as big as horses" He finished, showing us a concrete cast of a dog print, except the print was bigger than a bear's paw.

"Uh, we did say 50?" I asked, looking from Sherlock to the smirking man holding the print. Sherlock avoided eye contact as he fished a 50 pound note and handed it to me. John was watching Sherlock with the same astonished expression as me as the detective got up and stormed off to god knows where.

"We better follow him before he ends up breaking into Baskerville" John told me. I didn't imagine we'd actually be breaking into Baskerville in a few meager hours.

**Again, I am so incredibly sorry! Please forgive me! I'm trying to balance updating and schoolwork and trying to sociolize so don't hate me for bad chapters! I love you guys because you're all so incredibly patient.**


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